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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573434">Dual Rebirth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/floof/pseuds/floof'>floof</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, canon character death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/floof/pseuds/floof</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak has always been haunted by dreams of things he can’t explain. Still, he has a good life, and isn’t too lonely - he’s got his twin Jimmy and his dog Gracie, if no one else. All that changes when a drunken drifter, Sam, interrupts his quiet little life. It remains to be seen if Sam makes things be better or worse.</p><p>A season 3.5 AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sastiel Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks Star for the beta, Finn for the critique, and Nathy for the wonderful art!</p><p>Also, huge thanks to the Sas BB Mods, I've really needed a lot of help and they've been wonderful.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Children don't have the most reliable of memories. But Castiel has always been special – his mother says so. Though, calling her mother feels wrong, as does calling his father 'father'. There's even a disconnect between himself and his brother, Jimmy, when everyone assumes they must be as close as two siblings can be.</p><p>They are identical twins, after all. Eerily so, as if Castiel took one look at Jimmy in the womb, and decided 'Yes, that will work' and copied him. He remembers expressing so to their parents one day at dinner, after correcting them on a bible verse, which...</p><p>The less said about that, the better. Castiel can't know the word of God, who does he think he is, anyway? Although he fails to see how sitting in a corner, studying the bible, will correct his failings.</p><p>He says as such to his brother, after evening prayers and they're tucked in at night.</p><p>“You're so weird, Cas.”</p><p>“...Is that a bad thing?”</p><p>“Nah. It's – it just is.”</p><p>He wonders what he'd do without Jimmy. Flounder, most likely. Being human is hard, and it seems to come to everyone automatically, but Castiel – Castiel has to work for it.</p><p>When he's older, he'll look back on this memory, of being on the top bunk. One arm reaches below, while Jimmy reaches up, and they hold hands for a few minutes. It's strange. Castiel knows he's the older brother, for all a few minutes counts, even if it feels like eons more. But Jimmy's the one who looks out for him more often than not.</p><p>He's a terrible big brother. He's a terrible guardian, too. For all Jimmy tells him that's not his job.</p><p>It feels like it should be, for some reason Castiel can't define.</p><p>They let go before their father comes in to check on them, but giggle and tell stories once they're thought to be asleep.</p><p>Is this love? At least, how he should be experiencing it now?</p><p>Castiel finds himself hoping so. It's hard to tell – it's different, different than something he almost remembers, a certainty he was wrapped around, but that can't be true. He is Castiel Novak, he is six years old, he is human, and he always has been. Hasn’t he?</p><p>Those aren't normal little boy thoughts to think, though how he knows that, Castiel cannot say.</p><p>“Go to bed, Cas. Y'r thoughts 're keepin' me up...”</p><p>“I'll try not to think so loud. Sorry, Jimmy.”</p><p>Maybe it's love, maybe it's not... it's lacking something, but at the same time, it's so wonderful Castiel isn't sure he wants to know what it is that it lacks.</p><p>He's not happy, but he's not unhappy either. He has his parents, and his brother, and they go to church every sunday, say grace before dinner, and ask the lord to take their souls should they die in the night. Mother tells them God loves them, and Castiel would like to believe it's true, but…</p><p>Castiel has a feeling God isn't listening. That he hasn't in a long time.</p><p>Jimmy's right. He is weird. So, so weird.</p><p>He's glad he has Jimmy. He doesn't know what he'd do if he lost his brother.</p><p>~</p><p>It's Gracie who finds the boy.</p><p>Her name is really Grace, but Castiel's niece, Claire, gave her the moniker years ago, and it's stuck. Even before that, when he was hemming and hawing over a name, because he wanted to get it right, names are important – otherwise how had his mother just known to name him Castiel?</p><p>It's unusual, as biblical names go. There’s no mention of a Castiel in the bible, but it still feels religious. He’s getting off track. He has to go to the here and now, hard as that is for him.</p><p>Jimmy told him to just call her Grace, and she'd barked at that, so Grace she was, at least until Claire interjected.</p><p>Gracie, who he'd been taking for her evening walk. Occasionally a streetlamp would hit upon her glossy black fur, but other than that she was part of the night in a way that calmed him. At least until she’s tugging on her leash. Leading him, leading them away into the night.</p><p>She’s typically a good dog, well mannered, Castiel hadn't even had to train her much. But that night she's pulling and tugging, whines echoing through the blackness as they get closer and closer to the nearby church, until -</p><p>His hands, hot fire spreading across them as the lead slips from his palms and stings his skin. He can only cry out in surprise, but it's soon lost to Gracie's loving bark, and the cry of the boy.</p><p>No, not a boy. A man, lying in the ditch beside the church. For all it's dark, Castiel can make out how bad off the man is. That, and to be kind, the man smells like he thinks bathing is only a suggestion. Castiel ponders how to get his dog back, and get away from the man, when she takes the choice away from him.</p><p>The man seems scared of her at first, backing up into the light coming from the church. His skin is sallow, and his eyes are sunken in. He seems unsure Gracie even is a dog at first, and Castiel can't blame him. She's far too large for a normal labrador, but he has no idea what she could be mixed with. He’s heard Newfoundland suggested before, among other breeds. It doesn’t matter.</p><p>She’s Gracie, and that’s good enough for him.</p><p>Slowly, ever so slowly, as Castiel watches transfixed, the man's face breaks. The man leans close, wrapping his arms around Gracie, and buries his face in her fur. Castiel doubts he realises someone else is there, for the man sobs and sobs. Soft at first, then great hitching breaths broken by tears and howls of despair.</p><p>Biting his lip, Castiel tries to think about what Jimmy would do, and doesn't that sting. Even as an adult, he still has to pattern himself on his younger brother to figure out how to be human. But... Jimmy is a good man, and Castiel can only try to be.</p><p>Without another thought, Castiel steps forward. At the very least, he can offer the man money. Maybe he can convince him to come home with him, just to clean himself up a bit. Or maybe Castiel can get him a hotel room?</p><p>There's bottles all around the boy, and why does Castiel still think of him like that, he can't be that much older than him? A decade at most, but they're all adults here.</p><p>Beyond the smell of alcohol, regret hangs heavy in the air like a fog.</p><p>“Hello.” And when has Castiel ever been anything but awkward? It’s in his bones and blood. “I see you found my dog.”</p><p>That's... one way to introduce himself, he supposes. He never was any good at small talk.</p><p>~</p><p>Memories are fallible things, Castiel knows this. Dreams even more so. But still, he dreams of things he's almost sure <b>are</b> memories, for how full of clarity they are and how bright everything is around him. Brighter than he should be able to see, colors he forgets when he wakes up, shining light and dazzling feathers, white wisps and -</p><p>He doesn't tell his mother this after the first hospital stay. But he still tells Jimmy, who looks at him with wonder in his eyes. It's mental illness, it has to be, for all their parents are religious, they're not fools. But... it feels so real.</p><p>Is so real, every time he closes his eyes.</p><p>Hadn't his mother told him that he'd been a surprise, a miracle, a gift from God, and she just knew she <b>had</b> to name him Castiel? She'd said so, many times, as he, as they, grew up, but the minute he speaks of the dreams Castiel knows he has to be quiet about this.</p><p>He has to be quiet about many things. Half memories and full dreams tell him that's always been his problem. He wonders if Jimmy would still look at him with wonder if Castiel told him the reality of what he dreamt, the words, not just the light and the peace but the bone deep fear.</p><p>It doesn't feel right to call it soul deep, for all Castiel cannot figure out why.</p><p>The dreams are sometimes wonderful, voices singing together, praising a divine light he's never met but knows is true, knows is love, knows, knows, knows, but does he? Did he? Doubt, then pain, so much pain and agony and he only wanted to help, he only ever wants to <b>HELP</b>, no one will help him – he</p><p>Wakes up, crying, from those dreams, and Jimmy reaches up, sneaks into his bed, arms wrapping around his form as he cries and cries and cries. More than he ever did as a baby. He’s so scared, always so scared.</p><p>“It'll be okay, Cas. It'll be okay. You'll see – I've been praying to God for you-” Those words, so kind, make Castiel cry more and he can't say why, the reason won't come out, he's not even sure he really remembers anyway it’s fading it always fades - “He'll fix this, you'll see, promise.”</p><p>“But what if he doesn't?” They're too old for the bunk beds, both of them closer to teenagers than children, but neither Castiel nor Jimmy want to be seperated, not yet, he's so <b>weak</b> he's always been so <b>weak</b> why is he thinking this way? He's only eleven years old and he's been a good child, he obeys his parents, he goes to Church, he prays, he does his best not sin, why, why, “Why does it feel like I'll never be forgiven?”</p><p>Jimmy doesn't – can't answer him, not for a long while. Castiel muffles his sobs in his brother's nightshirt, the images from the dreams coming to him once more.</p><p>It isn't all peace, all soft light and being more than he can even imagine as he is now. There's violence, he's killing people in the dreams, because someone said it was the right thing to do. But how, how can it be right to harm people who have done nothing wrong?</p><p>How can it be just to <b>not</b> help, isn't that what he's supposed to do, help? Is that not his purpose? If he cannot be good, then what can he be?</p><p>Why won't someone tell him what to do? All he wants to do is listen, all he wants to do is obey, to help, any way that he can.</p><p>Sometimes the dreams are just him screaming, crying into a void as violent red light cuts around him. He begs to know what to do, what order to follow, he'll be good, he'll be so good.</p><p>“Cas? Hey, come on, you're scaring me here...” Jimmy's arms wrap tighter around him, slowly sharing his warmth, and Castiel can't stop himself from curling closer, for all he doesn't deserve it. He knows it deep down, that he's a monster of the lowest sort.</p><p>He just knows, somehow, he might hurt Jimmy, without even realizing why. He doesn't want to. He should – he should push his brother away, and run, leave and never look back until they find him. Until he's finally destroyed, as he should've been the first time he disobeyed.</p><p>But who are <b>They</b>? Why can’t he remember? They were so angry, are so angry…</p><p>Castiel will forget this clarity in the morning. He always does, he's always left with half formed memories that only return in his dreams. They can't be nightmares, they're too real. Too perfect in their cruelty.</p><p>As his brother rocks him to sleep, for all he's too old, much much too old to need this comfort, he falls back into another memory – dream. Distinct light patterns, feathers, lion's maws and eagles cries, eyes looking at him with fondness.</p><p>Teasing, fond, friend? He has, he had them, for all they never stopped the pain, he knows he was loved. He just loved too much himself.</p><p>That's bad. It doesn't feel like it should be bad, but it was, it is...</p><p>He's begging someone to tell him what to do, that he's been fixed so many times but remains broken. Tell him what to do, please tell him what to do, don't leave, don't leave without him, what will he do without her?</p><p>Bright light, screams of pain not his own. Look away Castiel, look away. Don't follow. Do not. Follow.</p><p>But when has he ever been good at following orders? He craves them like air, like love that is real and not demanded, not assumed.</p><p>A decision, then. One he makes on his own. Pain. So short a word, but not enough to describe it. The silence that follows, then.</p><p>Children don't have the most reliable of memories, but sometimes, when he's asleep, or has just woken up, Castiel swears he remembers asking if it was alright to live here, to join this house, this family. If there was room for one more.</p><p><em>Yes, of course there is. A thousand times yes.</em> Maybe that was happiness, maybe it wasn’t, was it even real?</p><p>Oh if only they'd known what saying yes really meant. When his dreams are lucid enough he can look around, make some form of sense despite knowing he isn't seeing the big picture, he tells himself he'll leave in the morning.</p><p>He never does. Their mother will scold them, their father will sigh, upon finding them in the same bunk once more. They’ll be told they're too old for this, again and again.</p><p>But Castiel cherishes being loved too much to let go.</p><p>~</p><p>The man's name is Sam, and he's been sleeping in his car. He's loath to follow Castiel home, but he's even more loath to let go of Gracie. Gracie, in turn, seems reluctant to let the man out of her sight. She whines when Sam pulls away, and Castiel finds himself sucking in a breath at how damaged the man looks in the dim lights of the nearby church.</p><p>He's bruised, has a prominent black eye, but the muscle Castiel can see on Sam's thin frame has him wondering if Sam hasn't gone looking for every fight. Then again, he's trembling, despite how warm the early July evening is, so maybe that muscle just hasn't been eaten up yet.</p><p>Some part of Castiel wants to comment on the bottles laying around Sam, about how close he is to a church. Does Sam not realize there's a service going on right now? But he keeps it inside. It's not like Castiel's in that church, either.</p><p>He has no stones to throw. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever.</p><p>“Sorry for...” Sam starts, stops. Laughs, and it's a cracked, broken sound, tinged with gin that Castiel can smell from three feet away. “Just... sorry.”</p><p>“It's...” Not alright, because Castiel doesn't understand what Sam is apologizing <b>for</b>. But it seems important to Sam that someone, anyone, is listening, so he nods. He's a poor excuse for a confidant, but he can grant forgiveness even if he doesn't know for what. “It's fine. I apologize to. Gracie should’ve know better. Gracie, come.”</p><p>Gracie whines at him, her big black eyes wide as she can make them. Then she turns from him, and buries her muzzle in Sam's neck once more. He goes down with a huff, blinks up at the sky in confusion, before raising a hand to awkwardly pat Gracie's ruff.</p><p>“Gracie.” Castiel sighs, tilts his head to the side, considers. “Are you sure you can't come with me?” He lifts a hand, shrugs. “I swear I'm not an ax murderer.”</p><p>He doesn't think so, anyway. Then again, he recalls having violent dreams and delusions when he was younger. They stopped for the most part when he turned eighteen. He doesn't miss them. Maybe that’s a lie. It’s hard to tell.</p><p>“Listen,” Sam starts, “Mister, uh,”</p><p>“Novak. Castiel Novak.”</p><p>“Right. Look, Castiel, I appreciate the offer but-” Sam nods towards his car, which is parked down the street. “But I won't be in this town much longer.”</p><p>The words tug at Castiel's heart, a deep foreboding that he cannot name. He only knows that if he lets Sam leave, he won't like it if he ever sees him again. If he even does. Why he cares, when he barely knows the man's name, Castiel doesn't know.</p><p>He just wants to help.</p><p>“You're in no condition to drive.” Castiel states bluntly, and leans down, hand out. “At least come with me long enough to take a shower. Gracie wouldn't forgive me if I let you crash into a tree.” No matter how much Sam might wish it.</p><p>He's got that look in his eyes.</p><p>“I... will my car be alright here?” Sam struggles to his feet, trying not to take Castiel's offered hand. He ends up back on the ground twice before Gracie decides to sit on him. With a sigh, Sam reaches out and finally intertwines his fingers with Castiel's.</p><p>His skin is clammy, probably from the alcohol, Castiel's mind supplies, but he can't help worrying about Sam's health. He's so pale, and his hair is tangled in places, a dull sheen covering him from head to toe.</p><p>Castiel squeezes Sam's hand between both of his as he hauls him to his feet. Then, pausing a moment, he gives the man a pat on the back. He's not sure why, and judging from the confused look on Sam's face, Sam isn't either.</p><p>“You seemed to need the comfort.” He shrugs, and nods at the black car. “It should be. But if you're worried, I could always drive it to my house.”</p><p>“You might not be an ax murderer, but have you considered that I am?” Sam laughs, but doesn't fight him as Castiel drags his arm around his shoulders and begins to walk towards the car. He pauses, glancing down at Gracie like he wants to say something, then his eyes begin to water.</p><p>Castiel should probably be watching the road, and he stumbles a little as they walk. Gracie trails her leash behind her as they head to the car, and jumps in before Castiel can get Sam settled inside. He spares a moment to frown at her, and she wags her tail in response.</p><p>“Friendly dog...” Sam pulls his arm back, and Castiel takes a moment to mourn the loss. Sam doesn't seem to notice as he takes a few hesitant steps until he gives up and leans heavily on the car, legs wobbling despite himself.</p><p>“She was a gift from my brother.” Castiel wonders if he should point out that he needs the keys to drive. It seems prudent. And yet, unimportant at the moment.</p><p>“Gracie, huh?” Sam's in no hurry to offer them. Perhaps he just wants Castiel's dog?</p><p>He can't fault him if so. For all her willfulness, she is a very good dog. Well. Mostly.</p><p>“It's actually Grace, but my niece – well...”</p><p>“Big family?”</p><p>“Not as such.” Castiel shrugs, and it's true enough. “I have a brother. He has a wife, and a daughter, so I suppose I have a niece as well... our parents died over a decade ago. They loved me but we were never close.”</p><p>“Ah... least you have a brother.” Sam's voice breaks, and he reaches up to rub at his eyes.</p><p>“I take it you don't have anyone?”</p><p>“Not... Not anymore... there's – well, there was an Uncle, kind of, but – I've probably pissed him off so bad he never wants to see me again.”</p><p>“I doubt that.”</p><p>“You know me so well, huh?” Sam turns to glare at him, though the effect is lost as he stumbles when he takes a step closer.</p><p>“No.” Castiel shrugs again. “I just know…” He bites at his lower lip, remembering the many, many times he brought his family strife. “...family will forgive a lot.”</p><p>More than they probably should, he quietly thinks, but he doubts that will help the current mood. The two of them stand in silence for a few minutes. Well, Castiel does. Sam takes more deep, hitching breaths, like he's trying to control his emotions. That, or keep from vomiting. Castiel's torn between concern, and being glad it's not his car.</p><p>Why is he helping this man again? He's not that whipped by his dog, is he? The thought makes him frown, and he bites his lip even harder, thrusts out his hand, palm facing up.</p><p>Sam goes cross-eyed looking at it, and Castiel sighs.</p><p>“Your keys?”</p><p>“Oh.... r-right.” Sam digs in his back pocket awhile, nearly falls twice until Castiel steadies him, before finally managing to find his keys.</p><p>It takes Castiel another five minutes to situate Sam in the passenger's seat, and buckle him in. Perhaps he's taking more care than he should, but he has a feeling it's been a long time since Sam's been shown kindness.</p><p>Why he wants to offer that kindness, he doesn't know. Not yet. Not really. He's got an inkling, but he tries not to think too deeply, his inner thoughts frighten him at times. It's better to be numb and factual.</p><p>Still, something about this boy makes him... feel. More than he should, at least.</p><p>Before he knows it, he's scooting the front seat up, and buckling himself in. The only music as he drives to his house with a drunken, homeless drifter is the soft sounds of Sam breathing, disrupted now and then by little cries.</p><p>Castiel supposes it's a good thing he's fallen asleep. It'll be hell getting him inside, but at least Sam's getting some rest. Disturbed though it may be. It's alright, Castiel has a feeling he'll be joining him in restless dreams soon enough.</p><p>Oh, damn it. No way Sam's long legs will fit on the couch. It seems like Castiel will be giving up his bed for a few days.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Mother, mother, ashes, ashes; we all fall down, but not buried into the ground. No, Sammy's mother is ashes, ashes on the ceiling, in the air, mixed with wood and paint and lost dreams. Even her spirit burned when she protected him and – no.</p><p>Ashes, so many ashes – Dad's ashes too, life traded for – No. Not thinking about that, not thinking about that, not thinking about why Dad’s dead, Sam <b>will</b> get at least one member of his family back.</p><p>Ashes, Ashes, bundled up in cloth and set aflame, can never say sorry or follow orders again.</p><p>Sam was never a good son, never <b>THE</b> good son, despite what... Dean said, while Dad was alive. He never can be a good son now, either. Not to a father that's only ash and a lost soul, somewhere Sam doesn't know.</p><p>He'd like to think Dad's in Heaven, because if Hell exists, and he has undeniable proof it does, Heaven must as well. Pastor Jim's sermons come to mind, and Sam breathes deep, buries his shovel into the ground.</p><p>“Still say he'd want a hunter's funeral, boy.”</p><p>Bobby wants to turn Dean into ashes, to. Sam won't let him, can't let him.</p><p>“Dean'll need a body.” Strike down, pull up, put your back into it, dig deep enough no animal will try at the rotting meat that was his brother.</p><p>Numb, he's numb, because if he feels, even for a moment, Sam will scream and scream until he's hoarse.</p><p>No one left but him. The one who got his mother killed just by being born. The one who never listened to his father. The one who Dean sacrificed <b>everything</b> for. If anyone should be in hell, it's Sam.</p><p>He deserves to burn, he deserves to be nothing but ash. Not Dean, never Dean. Dig deeper with your shovel, toss the earth back. Don’t think.</p><p>“Damn it, boy-” Bobby sighs, curses under his breath.</p><p>Sam can't, won't look at him. He doesn't want to fight again. They argued themselves hoarse on the way here. He can't say why he chose Pontiac, Illinois, but it'll do. This site in particular is remote enough, unconnected enough, no one will look for Dean here.</p><p>No one can harm his body more than it's already been harmed. If Sam, no, when he figures out how to get Dean <b>BACK</b>, he'll need to tell Bobby to be ready with a shovel and a nurse. Part of him wishes he'd sewn together the many, many wounds with floss, even if Bobby had told him there was no point on a corpse.</p><p>Dean might come back and bleed out, suffocate – Sam shudders, digs deeper, pushes everything but the feel of his shovel in the earth away. He's not in his body right now. It’s similar to Meg possessing him, but he still controls his limbs, far away though they feel.</p><p>The scrape of shovel on earth mixes with Bobby cursing, begging Sam to see sense. But his something like father, something like uncle, who can only be called – Bobby, because really, that covers everything, and what will Sam do when he loses him, to? Bobby never stops digging, either.</p><p>Even Jess is ashes, ashes, now. If Sam had just listened to his dreams, maybe the blood born gift from Azazel could've saved at least one person.</p><p>Hours pass, and the cover of night soon leaves him, rosy dawn peeking out from behind the trees. Sam finally listens to Bobby and stops digging. He takes a step back, two, falls onto his ass. Bobby says nothing if the deep breath he gasps down is half full of tears.</p><p>Funny. Sam hadn't thought he'd had any left. That he'd gotten his crying over and done with, that his heart had died with Dean. Maybe it's in hell with him, he hopes so. Sam doesn't need it anymore. Doesn't want it, either.</p><p>“Son, I-” Bobby starts, but Sam doesn't let him finish.</p><p>“There's nothing more to say.” He ignores the hand offered to him, pulls himself to his feet. Turns towards the simple pine box he'd built by himself. Sam's no carpenter, but he couldn't trust this task to anyone else.</p><p>Bobby made him put the lid on before they came out here to dig. Saying something about bugs, about dew on the body causing it to rot faster. Sam hadn't wanted to, but he'd listened. Now he wishes he hadn't.</p><p>This isn't the end, it can't be, he <b>will</b> see Dean again, even if only for a second before he trades places in hell. It's Sam's fault he's down there, so Sam should pay for it. Still, he wants to see the body – Dean's body – one last time.</p><p>But he can't, and a part of him hates Bobby for it.</p><p>He brings his hands to the top of the box, pats it, even though Dean wont - can't – never – will – again feel it, then grabs one end while Bobby grabs another.</p><p>Sam tries not to wince at the crack of wood when the shoddy casket hits the bottom of the earth. He wants to say a prayer, beg someone, anyone to look after Dean, save him from hell, but – Sam can only count on himself.</p><p>That’s how it’s always been, how it’s always going to be.</p><p>The heavens aren't listening to him anymore, if they ever did, and why would they? Azazel tainted him long ago, and the path of corpses Sam's left in his life is yet more proof he was never worth anything. He takes a deep, hitching breath, fights not to throw off the comforting hand Bobby places on his shoulder, and reaches down for his shovel.</p><p>They don't have much time to pile dirt back on top of the grave. It's agony, pain he relishes in his muscles and bones, and oh, he spares a moment of concern for Bobby, getting on in the years, but keeps going until dirt is mounded up top.</p><p>It's too conspicuous, so he starts to flatten it. Doesn't think of the one down below. At least he isn't ashes, not yet. Dean couldn't have let hell burn him out yet. It's only been a few days. Dean has to know Sam's coming for him.</p><p>He has to. Right?</p><p>“Sam, son... we need to go.” Bobby lays another hand on Sam's shoulder, takes a breath himself. But they both know he's no good at comfort. “...Alright. Don't be a stranger, you hear? And Son – don't do nothing stupid, ya idjit.”</p><p>Heavy steps filled with sorrow drown out the rushing of Sam's heart as he stares at the grave. Part of him is grateful Bobby didn't try to get him to go with. Another part wonders how he's ever going to move on from this spot.</p><p>Where his brother, his heart is buried below.</p><p>Sam wishes it would rain. He's out of tears. But Dean deserves them, deserves more than a grave only two people know about with a simple wooden cross marking it.</p><p>He stands there for hours before he leaves.</p><p>“I'll come back. I promise, Dean, I'll come back...” It's a struggle not to turn around to the grave. But plans are forming in Sam's brain.</p><p>He <b>will</b> fix this. Just, not from here. Much as he doesn't want to leave his brother's body behind.</p><p>Sam's got work to do.</p><p>~</p><p>Things blur together after that. Crossroads demons intertwine with bottles of booze, glass shatters as he screams at the sky, maybe it'll listen, since no one below wants to deal with him. He almost gives in when Ruby shows up, but... the girl. The one she's been possessing. The secretary.</p><p>She's slumped over in the passenger seat of the impala, and Sam worries at his lip, sighs, heads towards the exit. He'll drop her off at a hospital, saying he found her wandering around dazed and confused. It's not that much of a lie.</p><p>Then she shudders, opens her eyes in a rush, looks at him in fear.</p><p>“Hey, hey, calm down – you're fine, you're safe, I'm taking you to a hospital-” Sam wonders how much she remembers. He remembers everything from when Meg took him over, even if he didn't know what she was thinking, he could hear her speaking in his voice, saw where they were going with his eyes even though he couldn't force them to look where he wanted.</p><p>But others block the trauma out, and hell, Sam wouldn't blame her if she did.</p><p>“You – you can't trust her. She's hiding something, oh god, she's hiding something, she's – can't run nowhere to run if she wins! You – you're Sam? She – she doesn't love you, she <b>can't</b>, don't trust her don't trust her don't-” The secretary is crying now, in between gasps of breath which can't fill her lungs and pleadings to not trust Ruby.</p><p>It... strings how much it reads true. Sam's always wanted to trust her, wanted to believe there's a possibility a demon could be good. Otherwise he can't be saved, tainted as he is. No matter how good he tries to be. But he can't give up. Dean still needs him.</p><p>There’s a war in Sam's mind. Ruby helped with the colt, helped with Lilith, saved his life just hours ago. Left the secretary's body when Sam told her to. And, yet... She lied to Sam about being able to help Dean. Sure she had her reasons, but...</p><p>The only things he can get the woman to say fill him with even more doubt. If a demon couldn't figure out a way to save Dean from <b>going</b> to the pit...</p><p>Sam almost misses the overwhelming sorrow and numbness which gripped him the past few weeks. The interludes of anger. Now, he's cold and calculating as he helps the woman into the ER. It's easy enough to lie and get her situated into care.</p><p>It's not so easy to ignore her pleading look as she's wheeled away in a chair, legs too weak from panic to walk under her own power.</p><p>Sam doesn't know her from Adam, but... he's been there. Been a helpless, living puppet while someone else pulls the strings. He's glad Ruby's last meatsuit was dead, and hates himself for not caring while she inhabited it.</p><p>He just wanted to save his brother so bad. Still does.</p><p>When Ruby shows up later, in a new, 'recycled' body, Sam almost loses his resolve. Almost follows her, almost gives in to cold anger instead of red hot rage. Revenge might be the only option he has left, but...</p><p>The woman, god he never even got her name, had been adamant in her hysteria. Humanity still means something to Sam, it has to.</p><p>So he tells Ruby to give him time to think it over. When she shows up again, he begs for more time. Next time she shows up, he's suspicious. This goes beyond simple care... much as he doesn't want to admit it, she's up to something.</p><p>Once again, Sam's been an idiot and his brother faced the consequences <b>for</b> him. Mom, Azazel, the fucking deal in the first place... Dean's paid and paid for Sam's mistakes and he still is!</p><p>After that, things get a little blurry.</p><p>~</p><p>When Sam's lucid, when he's sober, he wonders if Dad would finally be proud of him. He's following an old Winchester tradition, after all. Who needs a functioning liver if you're going to die young anyway?</p><p>Days pass in between trips to liquor stores. He doesn't drive drunk, just buzzed, and he never gets pulled over so Sam figures he’s fine. Even the massive hangovers he wakes up with are preferable to thoughts of Dean, thoughts of Dad, thoughts of the Mom he's only seen in photographs, barring that one case with her spirit.</p><p>And it wasn't even really her, was it? Her spirit burned up, to, and that's all his fault, all his damn fault... his stupid, useless visions which never helped a single soul… they should've just burned the house down, again...</p><p>Pontiac, Illinois. He's in Illinois again. He's not sure why. Dean’s body must be worms and rot by now. He deserves better, but when has Sam ever been able to be what Dean deserved?</p><p>Ruby shows up, while he's loading up on more beer, and despite his best attempts to ignore her, she's bossy today.</p><p>“Sam, you can't keep going on like this.” Ruby reaches out, places a hand on his arm. “Dean wouldn't want-”</p><p>“Dean will never want anything again!” Sam growls, pulling his arm out of her reach. He stumbles as he takes a step to the side, yanks the door open angrily, drops the bag stuffed to the brim with different kinds of alcohol inside with a thunk of glass. “Don't you get it Ruby? He gave everything, everything for me – even his fucking SOUL!”</p><p>A few people are staring at them, but Sam's beyond giving a fuck. Let them. What's he got to lose, anyway? Oh boo hoo, a night in the drunk tank. Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last.</p><p>He's too good a driver to hit anyone. A lifetime of slinging guns and salt at monsters while he bled out, half blind from pain has ensured that. Thanks Dad! Finally putting those lessons to good use!</p><p>“Sam – Sam you have to listen to me-”</p><p>“Thing is?” Sam opens the car door, falls rather than gets inside. Lets out a laugh as he runs his hand over his face. “I really, really don't.”</p><p>Not today, at least. Someday he'll give in. He knows he will, he'll give in. He’s never been good on his own. It’s nearly been nearly a month without Dean. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less.</p><p>Time's kind of hard to deal with right now.</p><p>Soon enough Sam will have burned through sorrow like he did anger. All that's left is revenge. His soul isn't good for much, not for trading places with brothers who don't deserve to be damned like Sam’s been since birth, so who cares about keeping it clean?</p><p>But not today. He won’t give in today.</p><p>“Sam-”</p><p>“Ruby.” Oh look, Sam can do it too. He shuts the door hard, almost slamming her fingers, and locks it tight while she pounds on his window. She'll find him soon enough he's sure.</p><p>But tonight? Tonight's for him a couple of bottles of Jack Daniel’s. Tomorrow, he'll feel again, and maybe he'll listen. Maybe.</p><p>But <b>not</b> today.</p><p>~</p><p>Sam's always felt at home in churches, or at least as at home as someone like him can be. It was enough at times, to calm the search for normality as he grew up. Maybe he didn't have a house with four walls, a mom and dad who were there for him. But he had someone up above who loved him, who would always love him; so long as he did his best.</p><p>Lord knows Sam tries, tried to do his best. He hasn't tried very hard lately, that's true. It's just so hard without Dean, without Dad. He thinks that maybe he's answered a few times when Bobby's called, but it mixes together with the burning alcohol in his veins, in his throat.</p><p>Fighting with Bobby about getting his fool self killed is nothing new, anyway. That's another Winchester tradition he's keeping alive – pushing away those who only want to help. Better than getting them killed, which was the first tradition his family ever formed.</p><p>He wishes for the peace of prayer, for the safety of the church walls around him. Sam doesn't actively search for a church, not really, but when he drives by one, he pauses. Parks his car, grabs a few bags from the back, and makes his way towards it.</p><p>Tonight's a Wednesday, and he can see lights on in the building. Maybe there's a service, maybe there isn't. Sam's not fit to go inside either way.</p><p>So he sits, and drinks, and drinks, until he slumps against the ground. Doesn't matter if the cops get called on him. He just wants this. Just wants to be close to comfort, for all he doesn't deserve it.</p><p>Mother killer, father killer, brother killer too. He's worse than Cain.</p><p>But even Cain loved God, and wanted his love in return.</p><p>Sam closes his eyes. There's dew on the grass. Maybe he'll catch a cold, catch something worse, from lying here in the dirt, so much alcohol in his veins his blood could be used as a disinfectant for his own sickness.</p><p>He almost laughs at his dark thoughts, then something comes crashing into his side. Yelping, Sam rolls across the ground, bits of gravel catching and tearing his clothes and skin. He tries to reach for a weapon, tries to fend off his attacker, but a cold nose and a wagging tail soon cut through his alarm.</p><p>It's just a dog. A big dog, sure – he thinks of the blood which was torn from his brother as Hellhounds dug into him with claws and teeth he couldn't see.</p><p>But it isn’t a hellhound. It's just a dog. A big dog with big dark eyes which catch the light of the church, of the streetlamps, making it appear friendly. It's tail’s wagging so hard it may take flight.</p><p>It's nose presses into Sam's throat, and it whines as it tries to lick away his tears. Sam sobs without realizing it, he thinks of Bones, poor old Bonesy, he loved that dog so much.</p><p>Bones was half the size of this beast, and only his for two weeks, but he was a true friend. He was family, and oh how Sam had cried when Dad dropped him off at the pound. Hunting life might not have been one suited to a pet, but couldn't they have at least tried? Couldn’t Sam have had one normal thing in his fucking life?</p><p>Sam forgot how a dog can make everything better. Or at least make everything go away for a little while.</p><p>He hugs the dog tight, buries his face in it's fur. Cries for his brother, for his miserable little excuse of a life; cries and cries, only stops when someone starts talking.</p><p>“Uh... what?” Sam pulls away, rubs at his face. He wants to blame the alcohol for his emotional outburst, but the truth is it was a long time in coming. Not that he can make out what the man's even saying, not really.</p><p>Everything's sort of fuzzy. His head hurts. When was the last time he ate? Sam vaguely remembers downing some peanuts or something, on Friday.</p><p>But it's Wednesday. Shit. Even he knows that's not good.</p><p>The man's talking again, and Sam squints up at him. Oh. Pretty blue eyes.</p><p>“Sam. My names... Sam. Sam W-” He pauses, does he really want to give that out? Oh what does it matter, the FBI and general public think he's dead anyway. “Sam Winchester...”</p><p>The man's name is Castiel Novak. He's taller than average, Sam guesses, but almost everyone is short to him, and he's sort of scruffy. Not unclean, just not overly concerned with appearances. He's wearing a long, black trench coat over a simple blue button up, with tousled dark hair and a day or two of stubble on his face.</p><p>His deep, gruff voice doesn't quite go with his blue, blue eyes. Yet Sam finds himself fascinated. They’re so pretty. Sam’s always been a sucker for a pretty set of eyes. Maybe that's why he agrees to go home with him.</p><p>If Cas is going to kill him, Sam can't say he minds. The eye candy might make up for a violent death. Maybe he'd know how to help Dean as a vengeful spirit.</p><p>Can ghosts go to hell?</p><p>Oh Sam's definitely drunk. He has to be, otherwise why is he handing over his keys without a fuss, why doesn't he say anything when the dog – Gracie, ha, her name is Gracie, she's beautiful and wagging her tail so hard, licks his hands – why doesn't he say anything over her being in the backseat.</p><p>Dean would throw a shit fit.</p><p>Dean... Sam sobs, leans against the window. Dean, he just wants Dean back.</p><p>“Whose Dean?” Cas has asked him a few questions, but only this one's crystal clear, and Sam bites back another sob. “Sam? Is there anyone I can call?”</p><p>No. Not anymore, Sam's burned all the bridges he ever halfway built.</p><p>It's hard to stay awake, he knows he should, but something about Castiel makes Sam feel safe. Or at least at peace. Maybe it's how cute the guy is, for all Sam's only been with women since Brady, and only a few on top of that.</p><p>Or maybe it's the guys dog. Gracie wouldn't trust a murderer, right? Then again, she trusts Sam, so who knows?</p><p>Sam can feel Cas buckling him in, can sort of sense him talking now and again as the road rumbles under them. Someone else is driving Dean's car.</p><p>Should upset him, should. Doesn't, can't.</p><p>Too much emotion. Can't – can't deal. Sam's done.</p><p>He vaguely knows they've come to a stop, feels Gracie licking his hand. He tries to help Cas help him inside, but before he knows it, Sam's out like a light.</p><p>His dreams won't be peaceful. They haven't been in years.</p><p>~</p><p>Sleep is fitful, comes in bits and pieces to Sam. He opens his eyes – a white painted ceiling, with blue walls around him; some of the paint is cracked but the room is clean. Closes his eyes – Dean, covered in blood. Opens them – a cute, if scruffy guy – Castiel, his name is Castiel – runs a wet washcloth over Sam’s skin.</p><p>Closes them again. Thanks heaven above when no more nightmares come. Curses when a splitting headache does instead.</p><p>There's a glass of water by the bed, and a few white pills on top of a plate with some toast and jelly next to it. Sam downs the pills, half the water, and takes a bite of the toast before his stomach decides for him.</p><p>A mad, scrambled dash to the bathroom later, and Sam's fallen back in bed, face down. He means to stay awake, he's troubled this man enough, but. Sleep finds him soon after.</p><p>Nightmares come again, but they're bearable. The headache he's given when he wakes next isn't. Thankfully, there's more pills and water next to the bed. Sam can't make himself leave, even if Castiel has to be getting sick of him.</p><p>Sam's swam in oceans of pain before but not like this. It feels like he only exists on three points – his dry, aching throat. The ax slamming, throbbing against his temples. Followed by the deep sorrow he's been drinking to forget.</p><p>He can’t run from it, not anymore. Dean’s dead. It’s his fault. Dean’s in hell. Also his fault. Sam doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to save him.</p><p>His head hurts. He thinks about that instead.</p><p>A few days pass like this, until finally he feels well enough to move. Sam doesn't get why the cops haven't been called, or why he hasn't woken up without his kidneys. Fuck, would he even have noticed the added pain if he was missing them?</p><p>He sits up in the bed, pulls down his pants enough to glance at his stomach. No new scars. Everything is shaky and raw, the world spinning around him. But it's a pain he can work through. If he can just get to his feet, and he does.</p><p>If Sam has to keep a hand on the wall as he walks, who cares? No one's around to baby him anymore, and he heard Castiel drive off to work an hour ago. Maybe longer, maybe less. Time's sort of fuzzy still.</p><p>For all Sam knows, it's been a week, and not the three or four days he thinks he's spent here.</p><p>Sam climbs into the shower, and turns it on without undressing. He's not sure he even has any clean clothes, and if he does, they're buried deep underneath the bottles in the back of the car. Face pressing against the cool tile, desperate for relief, Sam can't bring himself to care.</p><p>That's a problem for future Sam.</p><p>Future him has a lot of problems, really. Sam knows he needs to leave this place behind. Ruby will have found him by now, if she hasn't already. The sooner he leaves, the better.</p><p>Cas deserves something for his kindness, for the way he's dealt with Sam's shit for a few days now. Sam likes to think he at least tries to be a good person, but he's not sure he'd have had the patience to let someone live in his home for days at a time, to wipe their sweat and vomit from their body.</p><p>Not that Sam's ever had a home. His home is with his heart, in the ground, rotting away.</p><p>He recalls Dean taking care of him when he was sick, more often than not. Save for that one time with the shtriga he barely remembers, Dean was good at it. Did just as much as Cas has.</p><p>Sam fights back a sob, closes his eyes. Dean… God, he misses Dean.</p><p>~</p><p>The next time Sam wakes, it’s slow and painful for a different reason. Sam senses someone above him, can faintly hear his name being called. But he's so cold, and shivers hard. A hand runs through his hair, and while his fingers clench, his body ordering him to strike out and fight back, Sam finds himself leaning into it.</p><p>“Sam? Sam, do I need to call an ambulance?”</p><p>What? Who? Oh... Castiel. Funny... Sam meant to be gone before he'd gotten home. He'd troubled Castiel enough, hadn't he?</p><p>Slowly, he shakes his head. No, no hospitals. He's cold, so cold his teeth are chattering, and he’s wet beyond belief. How long has he lain beneath the spray?</p><p>“That's... that's good. Sam, can you talk to me?” Castiel takes a step back, returns with a washcloth. He runs it over Sam's hair, makes a face. Oh, right. Sam hadn't actually gotten to the <em>washing</em> part of his shower, had he? “Sam? Sam, please... I don't want to call for an ambulance if you don't want me to but you're starting to scare me.”</p><p>Starting to? Sam has to laugh, which makes Castiel offer him a nervous one of his own in reply.</p><p>“Only starting to?” His voice sounds rough even to himself. “What, the past few days of a drunken stranger in your home wasn't scary enough?”</p><p>“Maybe a little alarming, but no.” Castiel shrugs, wrapping another towel around Sam. “You... you needed my help. ...I like to help. I'm just not very good at it.”</p><p>Sam doesn't know what to say to that. Castiel appears at a loss for words himself, until he takes a step back.</p><p>“You're taller than me, but I should have some sweatpants. Strip out of your wet clothes, and leave them in the tub. I'll put them in the wash while you have some dinner.” Castiel takes another step back as he heads towards the door. “I'll just leave it outside the door, alright? And uh... there's a toothbrush by the sink. Help yourself to the toothpaste.”</p><p>Translation: Sam's breath stinks. Cas was just too nice to say it outright.</p><p>He waits until the doors shut to pull himself to his feet. The wet clothes are difficult to get off, and they fall into the tub with a wet <b>schluck</b>. The towels are damp too, and probably dirty just from touching him, so he tosses those in the tub as well.</p><p>A quick look in the mirror above the sink has Sam pondering a shave. He’s scraggly, and looks far too old with the stubble on his face.</p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>There's plenty of time to slip out of a window or something, he doesn't really need his keys. Sam's been hotwiring vehicles since before he could legally drive. He's got spare clothes somewhere in the impala, even if they need a wash. Stealing the offered clothes would be far from the worst thing Sam's ever done.</p><p>But Sam finds himself staying.</p><p>The pants are highwater on him, and he has to tie the drawstring to keep it from slipping down his waist. Meanwhile the shirt’s a bit tight, especially in the shoulders. Sam's sure it swims on Castiel. But it's soft and warm.</p><p>Even if he hasn't scrubbed the filth from his skin, the hour or two of water rushing over his skin rinsed the worst of it off. Sam feels almost human after shaving and brushing his teeth. He even manages to finger comb his hair. It's gotten longer, doesn't quite stick out at the sides of his ears but curls around them instead.</p><p>Dean always teased him for his unruly hair, but it's actually getting kind of long. Sam thinks he'll keep it. For now, at least.</p><p>Maybe he'll sneak off after getting some food. He's sure to crash if he tries to drive now, it's been days since he had a proper meal. More than that, Sam owes Cas a goodbye after everything he's done. At the very least.</p><p>So Sam sits down at the table. Like everything else in Castiel's house, it's very clean, but old. The chair is rickety, and doesn't match the table, nor the other chairs sitting around it. The counter's covered with an eclectic variety of devices; a toaster, three different coffee makers; one of which appears broken, two microwaves, a few Sam can't name.</p><p>It reminds him of Bobby in a way. Cluttered, but homey.</p><p>A bowl of canned soup is placed in front of him, with a glass of water and a sleeve of crackers. Castiel sits at the other end of the table, where he opens up another sleeve, and starts spreading peanut butter over them.</p><p>“I'd offer, but,” Castiel shrugs, taking a bite of his peanut butter crackers and chewing before answering “You didn't do so well when it was just toast, so...”</p><p>“This is great. It's perfect, really.” Sam barely even tastes it as he begins to eat. It’s kind of chicken, and he can't make out what the pasta is, before his stomach reminds him he needs food to live. It's halfway gone before Sam even realizes it.</p><p>“My niece – Claire – likes chicken and stars. It's not often she spends the night, but I keep a few cans in my cabinet just in case.” Motioning towards the counter, Castiel offers Sam a wry smile. “In case you couldn't tell, I'm not much of a cook. But if you need something nuked, toasted, or milk poured on top, I'm your guy.”</p><p>Sam has to laugh at that. “I've never been much of a cook either. ...Grew up drifting from place to place; hotel kitchenettes don't give you much space to cook, and... my older brother took care of that, for the most part.”</p><p>“...Your older brother? Would that be Dean?”</p><p>“Yeah... yeah it would. He's... gone now.”</p><p>“My condolences.”</p><p>Castiel looks down at Sam's half finished bowl, but doesn't say anything more when Sam scoots it to the side and takes a deep breath.</p><p>So. It's time to leave. Right?</p><p>He's abused this man's kindness more than enough. Right?</p><p>“You don't have to leave, you know.” Castiel spreads more peanut butter over his crackers, doesn't look Sam in the eyes.</p><p>“I... Castiel... Cas, why are you doing this? Why do you care? You don't even know me. And <b>I</b> know that I'm not the most trustworthy guy around...” Sam takes another deep breath. “If you and your dog hadn't found me, I'd probably have been picked up by the cops when someone noticed me passed out on the ground. Wouldn't be the first time.”</p><p>Castiel's looking at him, his head tilting to the side as his brows draw together and he considers Sam. Sam, for his part, keeps his palms flat on the table, his eyes dull as he breathes in slow and deep. Ready for the judgement which inevitably comes from anyone who makes the mistake to show him kindness.</p><p>He's not prepared for the response he gets.</p><p>“Why not care?” Castiel scoots Sam's bowl back towards him. “I'm not some saint. I try to help people when I can, but I'm often bad at it. I say something odd, or miss a social cue, but I was raised to believe in my fellow man.”</p><p>Cas sighs then, looks at the ceiling, as if he can see something Sam can't. Sam finds himself looking up all the same, then Castiel speaks once more and Sam’s focusing on his lips. They’re dry, and worry bitten. He wonders what it’d be like to kiss them.</p><p>“I like to help. You need help. Why not let me? Stay as long as you like, at least until you feel better. I don't... know if you're an alcoholic, but I don't think so. I think you're someone who has had a bad time of it. So stay here, dry up, get healthier.”</p><p>“You just like to help, huh? Even if people get mad at you?” And doesn't that sound familiar. Doesn't that sound like Sam's whole life. Though killing monsters which no one realizes exist and letting a bum sleep in your guest bedroom aren't quite on the same level.</p><p>“Does it need to be any deeper than that?”</p><p>Well... no, it doesn't. Not really. So Sam finds himself nodding. He picks up his spoon once more. Then, because he so rarely hears it himself, he tells Castiel something.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>It aches in a familiar way, how surprised Castiel looks hearing that. But he smiles back at Sam, and the two of them sit in a companionable silence.</p><p>He'll stay til morning, at least. The soup is good. Tinny and watery, just like Dean used to make.</p><p>~</p><p>It should frighten Sam how easily one day becomes two, becomes a week at Castiel's. But it doesn't. It's peaceful here in a way Sam hasn't felt since... well, Jess, and he's not sure what that means. Sam notices Cas giving him looks now and then, before pulling back, embarrassed.</p><p>The attraction might be entirely on Sam's end. But there's something between them nonetheless. He’s not sure he wants to put a name to it. Not yet, at least.</p><p>They fall into a routine by day three. Sam wakes up shortly after Cas, when the latter comes down the stairs and crosses by the couch. No matter how quiet Castiel tries to be, Sam's hunter instincts are too well honed to let him pass by undetected.</p><p>It warmed Sam's heart when he found out Cas gave him his bed. They'd argued, but Sam moved to the couch. It made Gracie happy, at least, even if the both of their sleeps were interrupted now and again by the dog going up and down the stairs to check on her people.</p><p>Sam tries to tell her he isn’t staying, but she only licks his face.</p><p> </p><p>Breakfast is a simple affair; pop-tarts, cereal, toast; something quick and easy. What college cooking skills Sam has are rusty, but scrambled eggs are straightforward as can be. Castiel appreciates them, and Gracie appreciates licking the plates when they're done.</p><p>Cas heads to his job once breakfast is over. He's an accountant, which is fitting, Sam supposes. Shortly after he heads off, Sam takes Gracie for a long run around the neighborhood.</p><p>Then he tackles the issues around the house. It's a clean little thing, but it's definitely a fixer upper. So Sam works on fixing it up.</p><p>There's cans of paint in the garage, tools covered in dust, and other supplies. Signs of projects Castiel meant to get to, someday.</p><p>So someday becomes Sam's present. Gracie sits beside him as he works; tail wagging as he lays down drop cloth and strips paint.</p><p>The first day, when he comes home from work, Castiel pauses in the doorway, eyes wide as he sets down his briefcase.</p><p>“You don't have to do all this.” Leaning against the door, Cas looks at Sam as if he's something precious, to be cherished. Like he doesn't deserve him.</p><p>Well, Cas has that backwards.</p><p>“I know, but,” Sam shrugs, offers a sheepish smile. “I've never liked not pulling my weight, and heck, Cas. You didn't have to do all this.” He gestures at himself, at a loss for words how Castiel took him in, when most would've hurried on by.</p><p>Castiel nods softly, returning the smile with one of his own.</p><p>It's not always working on the paint job. Sometimes it's fixing appliances, righting loose doorknobs, working on light fixtures. Hanging portraits Castiel never got around to getting out of storage.</p><p>By week two, this place feels like a home. Maybe not his home, but... Sam doesn't want to leave, at least not anytime soon.</p><p>It's time to do something about his feelings for Castiel. Determine if they're a flight of fancy, or if he has a chance.</p><p>Looking around to see what else he has to do today, Sam takes a deep breath when he realizes it can all wait until tomorrow. Nerves threaten to overtake him, he's only been with a few people since Jess, and look how they all ended.</p><p>Even before Jess, Sam really only messed around with Brady a few times. He's out of practice with a male body, but... Cas is more than just kind. Sam's been sneaking looks, to.</p><p>Cas isn't built or anything, but he's got a nice smile, and deep blue eyes. What little Sam's been able to see under the button up shirts and long black trench coat has him curious to see the rest.</p><p>“C'mon Gracie.” Sam whistles, heading to the door. “Let's go for a run before Cas gets back.”</p><p>Leaping up from a dead sleep, Gracie lets out a booming woof of excitement as she books it to the door. Sam can't keep himself from laughing.</p><p>Already, he can feel his courage gathering. Tonight then, after dinner.</p><p>He'll tell Cas how he feels, before the two of them get even more entangled. If Cas... if he doesn't feel the same, then it's better to know now, when leaving won't hurt so bad.</p><p>Not that Sam has any doubts how much it <b>will</b> hurt. But maybe... maybe Sam can finally have something, someone, just for himself.</p><p>It’s a big maybe. Sam has to try at least.</p><p>~</p><p>The two of them run and run until it seems like they've left their problems behind, the sidewalks eaten up by Sam's long limbs and Gracie's four furred paws keeping pace beside him. His lungs burn and sweat slides down his back as the mid July sun beams down upon them.</p><p>They're back sooner than Sam would like. He only has time to slip into the shower when he hears Cas's car outside, followed by the door opening and closing.</p><p>As he suds up, he can just make out Cas talking to his dog. He never babies her, always asks her about her day as if she can answer him. Sam supposes she does, in her own way; always wagging her tail and nosing Cas's hand until he gives her much desired pets.</p><p>Sam's stalling. He hasn't even gotten shampoo in, just rubbed a soapy washcloth all over himself.</p><p>What's the worst that could happen? Castiel makes him leave? Sam's heart breaks?</p><p>It's patched together with bubblegum and scotch tape anyway.</p><p>The rest of his shower passes by too soon, and Sam finds himself clean, dry, and in his clothing at the top of the stairs. Hesitant to go down them.</p><p>He always knew he was a mess, but this is ridiculous. Man up, Winchester. Another deep breath, then another.</p><p>Sam heads down the stairs, nerves alight on his skin. He makes his way into the kitchen, opens his mouth to ask Cas if he wants sandwiches for supper, but his breath catches.</p><p>Castiel's on his knees on the floor, hands in Gracie's fur as she wiggles excitedly. On the counter is a big brown bag, and Sam can smell the Chinese from the door. The sunlight hit's Cas's eyes just so as he spots Sam, and grins, a real one for once.</p><p>Not the shy, awkward ones Castiel's offered him before.</p><p>It hits Sam then. He likes Cas, a lot. He's not just attracted to him. Sam likes discussing literature, likes hearing how Castiel's day went as they sit at the table. This is more than wanting to repay his kindness, more than Sam's desperate need to belong. To be normal.</p><p>Sam likes how awkward Cas is, likes how blunt he can be. If Castiel doesn't understand something, he says so, maybe with less tact than he should, but he speaks his mind.</p><p>When Cas said Sam could stay as long as he needed, he meant it. There's no strings attached.</p><p>This could easily turn into love. He’s not as scared of that as he probably should be.</p><p>Sam crosses the door, leans down, and kisses him. Cas's lips are chapped against his, and he seems tense at first, then relaxes into Sam's arms.</p><p>Odd, Sam doesn't remember wrapping them around Castiel, doesn't remember lifting him up, and setting him down on the counter, but that's what's seemed to have happened in the past minute.</p><p>He pulls away, breathes deep, eyes half lidded as he looks down at Cas. Castiel's flush, panting himself, but he tilts his head and looks up at Sam, concerned.</p><p>“You don't have to do this...” Cas starts, shaking his head “I mean, it's nice – very nice – but you don't owe me anything.”</p><p>“What if I want to?” Sam leans down again, kisses along Cas's neck, stops at his lips, easing his tongue between them.</p><p>Castiel isn't a very good kisser, but he's not completely inexperienced. That's alright, Sam's rusty too. He pulls away, nibbling on Cas's bottom lip as he does. Smiles down at him as he kisses atop his short, disheveled hair and whispers into his ear.</p><p>“What if I want this? What if I've been dreaming about doing this for nights now?” It's agony to make himself step back, even if every fiber of his body is fighting to make Castiel feel good. Beyond the aching want from his dick, Sam's always been about giving his partner pleasure first.</p><p>But he has to make sure.</p><p>“I mean, Cas, if you don't want this...” Sam can't pretend it didn't happen. Maybe his heart won't be entirely broken, no, but it'll ache from the almost. Almost having something he desperately wants hurts more in the end, he's found.</p><p>Sam doesn't have to wonder long. Castiel leans up, presses their lips, and foreheads – ow – together. He's a little dazed from it, laughing through the minor pain. More than anything, Sam's... happy.</p><p>“I want this to, but I've never copulated with a man before.” Castiel stops and considers a moment, shrugging nonchalantly “I've only had sex once, actually, years ago, but I am eager if you are. However, won't the food get cold if we do this now?”</p><p>Sam can only laugh as he unbuttons Cas's pants. Cas watches him eagerly, his cock peeking out from his boxers, which soon join his pants and shoes on the floor.</p><p>“I've fixed both your microwaves twice now, we can heat it up again.”</p><p>Soon enough Sam's kneeling on the floor, and Cas slides down after him, attempts to unbutton his shirt and take off his coat, but Sam shakes his head, so Cas shrugs and leaves it on.</p><p>Hesitant at first, Sam leans forward, kissing the tip of Cas's cock. He moans at that, his fingers bunching up in his own coat, before Sam reaches out and settles Cas's hands on his shoulders. If they find their way up to his hair, Sam doesn't mind.</p><p>Cas tastes like sweat and salt with a hint of soap. It's not a pleasant taste, not really, but the moans and soft gasps of his name from above; <em> Sam, oh, Sam, please, god </em> - more than make up for any unpleasantness.</p><p>He starts out slow, reaches down to tug himself off as he wraps his lips further around Cas's member. Remembers to keep his teeth away, curls his tongue just so, chuckles as Castiel grows still. So close already, but it doesn't matter.</p><p>Sam's hard up to. Then, without warning, he takes Castiel as deep as he can go, relaxes his throat. It burns, makes his eyes tear up. He tears up worse when Cas tugs on his hair, gasps his name once more, and climaxes hard down his throat.</p><p>But it's a good feeling, a good release as he palms himself roughly between his palm. Castiel is panting above him, leaning against the counter almost boneless as he softens in Sam's throat. By the time his member slips free from Sam's mouth, connected still by a string of cum and spit, Sam's falling over the edge himself.</p><p>His vision whites out a moment, he sways, but Castiel's got him. Or he tries to, Cas is so uneven himself they end up a mess together on the floor.</p><p>Castiel looks at him and blinks. Sam looks at Castiel and blinks back, then starts to laugh. Cas joins in after a minute. They’re a regular pair of fools.</p><p>“You need to eat more fruit, Cas.” The taste of him was bitter and unpleasant on Sam's tongue, but he'd do it again in a heartbeat.</p><p>“I need to what? Why? I wasn't aware I'm deficient in any food groups...”</p><p>“Teasing, Cas. It's supposed to make semen taste better.”</p><p>“Oh. I... I'll eat more apples, then.”</p><p>Sam laughs again, reaches out to hold him. The Chinese stays atop the counter for now. Forgotten, they’ve filled up a different hunger.</p><p>“Cas... I...” Could really grow to love you, he thinks. But doesn't say it, choosing instead to press his lips to Cas’s instead.</p><p>They kiss a minute or two before Cas draws back, a frown on his face.</p><p>“Ah. I see what you mean.” Castiel’s tongue peeks out from his lips, and he frowns even deeper. “This isn’t a pleasant taste.”</p><p>Oh yeah. Sam could really, really grow to love Castiel Novak. He's more than halfway there already.</p><p>~</p><p>Later, when the two of them are curled together on Castiel's bed, crowded but enjoyable between them, something occurs to Sam. He's not sure if it's wonderful or horrible, or if it simply is.</p><p>Sam hasn't thought about Dean the entire day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>Castiel isn't freaking out. He isn't freaking out, at all. If anything, he's freaking out about how he's not freaking out. Castiel doesn't know a lot about love, or relationships, but he knows it generally goes like this; you take someone home, and you sleep with them.</p><p>Or; you ask someone out, and you date, then you sleep with them. Or, as his dearly departed parents always stressed; you fall in love as God planned, you marry, <b>THEN</b> you have sex with them.</p><p>Alright, perhaps he's freaking out just a little.</p><p>He's long past understanding his relationship with the church, or with God. Sometimes Castiel envies his brother for his easy relationship with both, but after the dreams, after the voices Castiel heard until he turned eighteen... well. Sometimes Castiel thinks he's the lucky one, to doubt.</p><p>So it's not that. It's not how fast the two of them went; from kissing to fucking right there on Castiel's kitchen counter. Maybe it wasn't as explicit as some of the porn Castiel will deny watching to anyone who asks, but it was... intense seems too simple a word, but it’s all he has to describe it.</p><p>Intense, just like Sam.</p><p>What is it, then? Is it how fast Sam's slotted so neatly into his life? Is it how Castiel's found himself dreaming about a bigger, longer bed the two of them can fit into at night? Is it how Castiel fears Sam will leave when he's through with him?</p><p>Probably all of the above. The past few days have been much the same; coming home to Sam, and Sam kisses, and sex with Sam, which he is quickly becoming accustommed to. Maybe that's part of the problem.</p><p>Ugh. He wants to talk to Jimmy. He’s always been better at this type of stuff, always been normal. Castiel has to work at it. Biting his lip, he looks up from his desk, peers down the hall. His boss is busy, so surely it can't hurt to take out his phone and send his brother a quick text.</p><p>'Need to talk to you.' Castiel buries his phone under his paperwork as if it's a hot coal. He supposes maybe it is.</p><p>He's not sure where he stands with his brother right now. They'll always love each other, Jimmy promised to always be there for him, but, well. Castiel's not stupid. He'll always be an outsider looking in.</p><p>Jimmy and his perfect wife, perfect life. Beautiful daughter, beautiful house. Amelia tries to be nice, never fails at being polite, but Castiel knows she doesn't like him.</p><p>No, that's not fair. Amelia just doesn't know what to make of him. Castiel can't say he blames her. He's not sure what to make of himself, either.</p><p>At least Claire likes him. But it's half because he's so weird.</p><p>He pauses halfway through inputting some numbers into the screen. Has it really been two months since he's talked to Jimmy? To any of them?</p><p>The buzz of his phone startles him out of his melancholy. Another desperate, guilty look down the hall, and Castiel flips it open.</p><p>'Hey Stranger. I was getting worried. Call at lunch?'</p><p>Castiel smiles. Jimmy always knows what to say to make him feel better. If only he could return the favor. Replying with a simple 'Yes', he sets his phone back down and buries himself in his work.</p><p>The hours cannot pass fast enough. They drag on and on, for all Castiel fights not to glance at the clock. By what feels like quitting time, the clock hits noon.</p><p>He waves off his coworkers invitation to go get food, or sit in the breakroom with them; and heads to his car. A short drive and a quick stop later finds Castiel sitting at his favorite park bench; a simple sandwich and coffee cup beside him.</p><p>The phone feels heavy as he stares at it. Why is he this way? He's the one who reached out to Jimmy, not the other way around. Jimmy hadn't even seemed mad in his text, and he had every reason to be! Castiel knows how much his brother worries over him.</p><p>After the dreams, the nightmares, all the medications which did nothing. Not to mention the hospitalizations... Castiel's amazed at Jimmy's patience. Two months without contact? When their parents were alive, if Castiel went a day without calling, they'd... best not to think about it.</p><p>A deep sigh, and Castiel pulls up his contacts. It feels like he's marching to his doom. Three rings exactly, and Jimmy picks up.</p><p>“Hey, Castiel.” His brother's soft voice speaks through the phone. Castiel finds himself feeling lighter already. “So, what's wrong?”</p><p>And just like that he feels heavy again.</p><p>“Wrong?” Taking a sip of coffee to wet his suddenly dry throat, Castiel swallows before continuing on. “What makes you think something's wrong?”</p><p>“Cas.” Jimmy chuckles, and he can just <b>hear</b> him rolling his eyes. “You haven't talked to me in months. Then you ask to speak during lunch? I know you. You prefer your peace and quiet, and your park, during lunch. So what's up?”</p><p>“Am I really that predictable?” He sighs, “Don't answer that... I'm... sorry, Jimmy. Is Claire upset?”</p><p>“She's wondering why her favorite Uncle's mad at her, yeah, but that's not why you called.”</p><p>A bone deep wince comes over him then. Something about Claire just... makes him ache when he upsets her. He doesn't know what it is. Doubtful it's her age, Castiel doesn't hate children, but he doesn't seek them out either.</p><p>“I'm her only uncle.” Why can't he ever just say what he means? Castiel holds back another sigh. “But yes, that's not why I called.”</p><p>“Thought not. So what trouble are you in now?”</p><p>“I am... not in trouble, per say.” He wants to say he doesn't seek out trouble. It just sort of finds him. That never goes over well, so he continues on instead. “I... met a man.”</p><p>“A man, huh? Well don't worry what our parents would say. They're gone, and as the older younger brother, I say-”</p><p>Castiel cuts off his twin with a long, drawn out groan.</p><p>“I am three minutes older than you.”</p><p>“And yet you act like you're three years younger. Anyway, as I was saying-”</p><p>It's a life long argument of theirs. Castiel smiles hearing it. He wants to let his brother go on, wants to let the familiarity wash over him and assure him that nothing has changed. That everything will be okay.</p><p>But.</p><p>“It's not that, Jimmy. I'm not having a... crisis of sexuality, or whatever. I know what I am, I know I don't care about someone's body-” Privately, he admits that Sam's abs and his long hair and his even longer legs don't hurt, “But their mind. And I know mother and father wouldn't understand, not at first, but they'd get it eventually. For all their faults, they loved us both.”</p><p>“So what's the issue?”</p><p>Castiel takes a long time to consider. He drinks half his cup of coffee as he thinks, and chews a few bites of his sandwich. His brother breathes softly on the other end of the line, never pressing him. Finally, Castiel puts words to it.</p><p>“It's how I met him, I suppose. You won't approve, but I found Sam lying drunk by the church and well... I took him home. No, wait, it's not that either, I don't care that he was – we all have hardships, and-”</p><p>“One day your tendency to think the best of people is going to bite you in the ass, Cas. Worse than it already has.”</p><p>“What, you don't think having all my stuff stolen or my credit ruined was enough?” Castiel sighs, tugging at his hair. Those incidents are in the past, over and done with. He’s tired of fighting about them, and they’re not why he called. “No, I'm sorry. That was unkind. You were there for all of it... You're right, I do tend to trust people I shouldn't, but.. I can't just leave someone who needs help alone. Can I?”</p><p>“No, you can't.” Jimmy agrees, and sighs himself. “I'm sorry. You were only being a good samaritan. Mom and Dad would be proud. I am, too, you know.”</p><p>He wants to ask why Jimmy never seems to act like it, but there isn't enough time in the day for that argument. Let alone his rapidly dwindling lunch hour.</p><p>“In any case, Sam isn't a drunk. He hasn't told me much, but I've been able to gather that he just lost his brother, and he has no one else. ...I only meant to give him a bed to sleep in while he dried up, but well. He never left and – I don't want him to.”</p><p>“Well have you told him that?”</p><p>Ah, Jimmy. Always straight to the point.</p><p>“...No, I have not.”</p><p>“And why not?”</p><p>“Because... what if he leaves?”</p><p>“If he's going to leave when you ask the hard questions, little brother-” Jimmy ignores Castiel's sputter of annoyance, continuing to talk over him. “Then it's not going to work out at all. I get it, you know. You want what Amelia and I have, but that doesn't happen overnight Cas.”</p><p>“I know.” Castiel shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and chews angrily. He doesn't like to admit his jealousy often.</p><p>Jimmy's given him so much, yet Castiel still wants more. What kind of monster is he, really? Sometimes he thinks he never should have left the hospital… he’s so broken, still. He only plays at being normal, at being human, and it’s so lonely. Sam makes it better, but Castiel knows what they have is so fragile, still.</p><p>“Speaking of hard questions. I want to meet him. How about this Sunday, for dinner? Amelia's making a pot roast, I think? So there’ll be plenty of food.”</p><p>Castiel wants to argue it's too soon for Sam to meet his family. Wants to argue that Amelia hates him enough, without him bringing over a lover. A boyfriend, no less. But Jimmy is right.</p><p>If Sam's going to be with him, he'll have to meet Jimmy sooner or later. And really, what's left in their relationship? They've already slept together. He's already seen Sam in sickness and he's slowly seeing him in health. Sam wraps his long limbs around Castiel as they lay in his twin bed at night.</p><p>He’s growing so used to seeing Sam when he wakes. Sam owns a piece of Castiel’s heart, and that piece grows larger with each and every day.</p><p>“I... alright. I'll bring a gift for Claire.”</p><p>“You know, I hate it when you do that. Don't just buy her a gift to make up for ignoring her for months, Cas. Be there instead. I get things happen, but – do better. Cas, I don't expect much... do you even realize you missed our birthday?”</p><p>His silence is answer enough. No, he hadn't. The passage of years has never mattered much to Castiel, but he's always enjoyed spending the day with his brother on their joint celebration. He wonders what it says about him that no one wished him a happy birthday, either.</p><p>“Try harder. So.” Jimmy's voice changes, going from his rare chastisement and back to the lighter, softer tones Castiel is used to. “See you then! Six sharp, don't be late. Love you, Castiel.”</p><p>With that, the line goes dead. He finds himself pulling the phone from his ear to stare at it. Jimmy's right, he knows. Castiel does need to try harder.</p><p>Telling Sam about this is going to be hard enough. So he'll start there. Taking his coffee cup in hand, he downs the rest in one go and tosses it in the nearby trash can.</p><p>Now to figure out how to tell Sam. Will he even stick around until Sunday? Heart heavy with that question, Castiel checks his watch. Either way, he has to get back to the office. He's running late.</p><p>~</p><p>There's no set way to dream. Some people’s dreams are filled with adventures so wondrous they could fill a hundred storybooks and still have tales leftover. Others merely replay the day's events. Even when dreams turn dark, and into nightmares, Castiel gathers that it is the mind's way of dealing with trauma.</p><p>A bully might turn into a striking snake; fangs deep in the thigh instead of sticks and stones which hurt as much as words. And yet, Castiel is sure he's dreaming wrong.</p><p>The dreams have evened out some over the years, various medications dulling them. Still, it was silly of Castiel to hope for a normal high school life. He's asleep, he knows that much. The bright, bright light all around him calls in a furious way, and yet...</p><p>It doesn't seem as angry with him as the others in the past. Oh it's angry, very much so, but at the world as much as himself. He can only make out every third word, for all it's spoken in another language that feels like home.</p><p>How that can be, when Castiel was born and raised in America, he doesn't know. No... somewhere, Castiel remembers. Remembers looking down, being more than himself, but he can't comprehend it anymore.</p><p>He doesn't want to, either. All around him in the dream is black, then white; colors cartwheeling in a kaleidoscope of hues. The roar of lions, the cry of eagles; sounds high enough to shatter glass surround him, and Castiel brings his hands to his ears.</p><p><em>Remember</em>, The words of a nicer therapist come to him now. She'd been kind, still treated him like he was crazy, but she'd believed Castiel believed he was visited by otherworldly creatures in his sleep. She tried to help him more than anyone else in that terrible hospital, and for that Castiel will always be grateful to her.</p><p><em>Remember</em>, He mouths along in his dream, <em>They cannot hurt me, and I've done nothing wrong. I'm good, I deserve to be here, I deserve to be loved.</em></p><p>The golden light curls around him then, and Castiel just knows he's whimpering in his sleep again. He hopes he doesn't wake Jimmy. Despite finally having their own rooms now that they're teenagers, they frequently sneak into each other's rooms at night.</p><p>Mother and Father chastise them, Castiel needs to learn to be a man, they say – but Castiel is never turned away when he sneaks into Jimmy's bed. And Jimmy seems to know when a night is going to be bad, and checks in on him as well.</p><p>The roars dim, the eagles cry almost like laughter. Then it's gone, and Castiel opens his eyes. He's in a meadow, filled with flowers. Petals fly through in the soft summer breeze, and when he turns to the left, there's a river strolling lazily by.</p><p>It's too peaceful. Manufactured, almost. He takes a step back, grateful for once he doesn't have the nightmares about being in his underwear, or worse yet, naked, that others do. Castiel's fully clothed, draws his jacket around him tight like armor.</p><p>“You don't have to be afraid of me, you know.” The voice sounds familiar, but so distant at the same time. It's higher than his own, and Castiel has a bad feeling as he turns to face it.</p><p>It's his brother. But not. It might be Jimmy's body in front of him, so very like his own, but Castiel can tell it's not Jimmy behind those eyes. For the smallest moment, they flash a brilliant white, before that familiar blue shines through.</p><p>“That's a poor form to take if you want me to trust you.” The air is warm as a true summer's around him, but Castiel finds himself shivering. The jacket morphs into a thick winter coat, for all the good it'll do. He knows he has no power here.</p><p>Not against this.</p><p>“Ah, that's where you're wrong. You have plenty of power, brother.”</p><p>“You're not Jimmy.”</p><p>“No. I'm not. But he agreed to let me borrow his skin for awhile, and I'm nice enough I'll even return it before he wakes.” His brother-but-not's laughter is surreal in it's cruelty for all it only lasts a minute. Then Jimmy-not-Jimmy straightens, turning serious. “Right. That's not why I'm here, and really, Cassie? Look in a mirror. You're the last one I want to get a lecture from. Not on this. Or anything, really, anymore.”</p><p>Jimmy-not-Jimmy feels older than his long teenage limbs belie. Castiel tilts his head, unsure if this creature is friend or foe. He's never spoken to someone in his dreams before, only heard echoes of what feel like past memories, but can't be.</p><p>Can they?</p><p>His not-brother sighs.</p><p>“I'm running out of time. Look, Cas, pissed as I am with you, I don't want you dead. I never have, not even when I yelled at you before. Not that you remember that… small blessings of your humanity, I guess. I’d love to slap you around a little, maybe. But you'll always have me on your side, okay?” Not-Jimmy runs his hand through his hair once, before placing both hands on his hips. “Right. You won't remember this anyway, so maybe just one or two slaps...”</p><p>Castiel finds himself halfway to the river before realizing it's futile as Not-Jimmy appears right in front of him, nose to nose. Not-Jimmy laughs when Castiel falls back on his ass, but then his eyes go soft and he sighs.</p><p>“Right... look. I'll see what I can do to get them to leave you alone, but Cassie? You've got to be ready someday. We're forbidden to do much more than this; but the days rapidly coming when we’ll walk the Earth once more. You'll be asked to pay for your crimes then. And I... I miss you, but every time you came back from <b><em>her</em></b> I felt like I lost another part of you and I <b>won't</b> let it happen again!”</p><p>He spits out the last sentence, and the rage looks misplaced on Jimmy's face. Castiel has seen him angry, furious even, mostly at their parents when Castiel begged to stop taking medications which hurt him; but never like this. It's almost a divine wrath.</p><p>Castiel doesn't know what to say.</p><p>“...I miss you, you know? Cas, you always had a stick up your ass, but you were so much fun, sometimes, I used to hope you'd show up at the armory...” Not-Jimmy sighs. “You're going to wake up soon. We'll talk again later. Sorry for shouting at you when you were a kid, 'kay? I just got so pissed and they were taking out your transgressions on me and Cas, do you have any idea the mess you left behind? You and Anna, and then you had to outdo her. Arsehole.”</p><p>The words echo around him as the meadow fades from view. He's half awake, eyes struggling to open as his not-brother says one last thing.</p><p>“Don't worry, I keep my promises. Your brother's just your brother again.”</p><p>The plain white ceiling above him has never been so welcome. Castiel sits up in a rush, his dream-nightmare-blur fading fast. It wasn't tranquil and far from relaxing, filled with what felt like a dire omen, and yet...</p><p>It was the nicest Castiel remembers his slumber in years. Almost like seeing an old, forgotten friend. He breathes deep, and wishes for a time that he could remember it.</p><p>When he turns to the side to check the time, Castiel pauses. Jimmy's laying half on top of him, his knees on the floor below. As if he'd fallen asleep trying to rouse him from a dream.</p><p>Castiel has only a few dreams after this, and remembers little about them.</p><p>Years later, he wonders why he misses them at times. No longer needing the medication and it's side effects should be a sign of growth, of triumph.</p><p>So why is it he feels like he's lost a friend? He’s always felt empty, always felt hollow. He’s learned to live with his loneliness. And yet...</p><p>~</p><p>Halfway there and Castiel almost turns around. His hands are tight on the steering wheel, and while he's keeping his gaze firmly on the road ahead like he always does; he's sure his eyes are wild. Sam should have driven, with Castiel giving him directions. The Impala would surely impress.</p><p>Castiel desperately wants this to go well. He almost wants to pray, but prayer has always felt wrong; and really, why should God care if his remaining family approves of his date? And oh how Castiel wants them to approve of Sam.</p><p>Jimmy and Claire especially. Castiel isn't sure Amelia can approve of anything relating to himself at all. There he goes, being unfair again.</p><p>A hand on his shoulder nearly causes him to swerve into oncoming traffic.</p><p>“Whoa, easy there Cas!” Sam's light tone holds an undercurrent of worry. “...You ashamed of me, or something?”</p><p>The way Sam says it, he sounds like he wouldn't blame Castiel if he was. Like he's used to it, almost.</p><p>“What? No! Sam, I... I just want this to go well. I want them to – to love you, as much as I do.” His stomach sinks and long ago breakfast threatens to come up. Castiel couldn't handle lunch. “Maybe it's too soon to throw that word around, but I-”</p><p>“Cas. It's okay.” Sam squeezes down, lets go. Castiel chances a glance at him, and the man is looking out the window. Reflecting, maybe, but not mad. “I like it here. I like you. It's only been a few weeks, but I'm happy. I seem to make you happy, too. Isn't that enough?”</p><p>Castiel finds himself musing on it as he pulls into the side street. Putting his car in park, he turns to look at Sam and smiles.</p><p>“It's more than enough.” A promise towards trying at a future together, if nothing else. More than Castiel could hope for, and more than he's ever gotten in the past.</p><p>Jimmy has to like Sam, he decides. How could anyone not?</p><p>His nerves don't seem to agree as they walk towards the door, his hand itching to hold Sam's, but... Castiel won't be clingy. He's too afraid of scaring Sam off, and he knows for all Sam says he thinks his anxiety is cute; it isn't.</p><p>Yet Sam had seemed so happy to be asked to dinner. As if it was a treasure rarely offered. He hasn't asked, but Castiel is desperate to know of his – lover? Boyfriend? His Sam's past.</p><p>The door opens after three knocks, revealing Amelia's bright and smiling face. It doesn't quite reach her eyes, and Castiel feels himself bristling as she takes in Sam. His long legs, and his tall stature; the beat up jacket he wears over an old, but clean flannel shirt.</p><p>Castiel had thought about asking him to dress nicer; the jeans have holes in the knees, but caught himself just in time. Sam had been living in a car, and he always seems to want to repay any nicety Castiel shows him despite being told time and time again he doesn't have to.</p><p>How would he have acted if Castiel showed up with dress slacks and a button up in Sam's size? A step down from the suit Sam had offered to wear, which had questionable bloodstains on it; but a step above his other fare.</p><p>“Castiel! Always nice to see you. And this must be Sam?” Amelia's voice cuts through his internal apprehensions, and she opens the door wide to usher them in. “Dinner is almost ready, let me take your coats.”</p><p>Castiel offers her his long, black trench coat. His constant companion, better than a security blanket or a teddy bear. Sam seems nervous himself, and Castiel catches him slipping something out of the pockets and into his pants before offering his own jacket. Followed by a shaky smile which Amelia raises an eyebrow at.</p><p>“So, Sam, where are you from?”</p><p>“Uh, well, all around, but-”</p><p>Sam's cut off by a high pitched scream of glee.</p><p>“Uncle Castiel!” Footsteps thunder down the steps, followed by a train of blond hair, and Claire jumps the last step. Her arms open wide, as wide as her smile.</p><p>Any worry about his – his whatever, his Sam – is cut off as Castiel races forward. He manages to catch her, but only just, and lets out a grunt as every pound of excited nine year old hits him square in the chest.</p><p>“Claire!” Still, Castiel can only laugh in joy. He really has missed her. He makes a mental note to not let his melancholy affect him so much that he doesn't stop by, or at least call, in the future. “One of these days you're going to fall on your face and break something!”</p><p>“Nuh uh. You'll always catch me, Uncle Cas.”</p><p>Oh to have her faith in him. Shaking his head, Castiel swings her from side to side for a moment before placing her down on her feet. As he steps back, he catches the tail end of Sam and Amelia's conversation.</p><p>“Kansas, really? And how did you end up in Illinois? That's a fair distance. Are you a trucker?”</p><p>“Well, I, uh... I was on a roadtrip with my brother after – after some stuff happened, and-”</p><p>Sam's floundering, obviously upset about something. Castiel can only guess, but he knows something terrible has happened in Sam's life to end up here. Several something's, in fact. He hates how grateful he is for it.</p><p>“So, this is Sam?” Jimmy rescues them both, stepping out from the kitchen, hands on his hips. He catches Castiel's eyes and offers a nod. They'll talk, but later. “Castiel’s told me about you.”</p><p>“He has?” Sam seems surprised at this. Fair enough, as Castiel is too. They've only talked once more since that lunch, and it was filled with worry. On both ends of their conversation.</p><p>“Hi Sam!” Claire saves them from further awkwardness, and steps forward, hand offered to shake. “You're Castiel's boyfriend?”</p><p>Ah. That answers the question of how to introduce him, now doesn't it?</p><p>Still, Sam looks around wide eyed and unsure as he takes Claire's hand and shakes it. Catching Castiel's eye, his face softens, and he nods.</p><p>“I am. I think.” Pulling his hand back, Sam starts to raise it, no doubt to rub at the back of his neck nervously. But stops halfway and tucks it into his pocket instead.</p><p>“You think? You're silly.” Claire huffs, rolling her eyes like she expects such things of adults, but Sam had seemed cool. “I like your hair.”</p><p>“Thank you. I – I like yours too.”</p><p>Oh, Castiel gets it now. He smiles, remembering how awkward he was around Claire at first. How awkward he still is, the rare times he meets her friends. It seems neither of them are very good with children. He wonders if Dean was. Jimmy certainly is.</p><p>“Well, let's eat.” Jimmy comes to the rescue once again, and ushers them into the kitchen. When they've sat down, he offers his hands to the others. “Let's say grace.”</p><p>To Castiel's surprise, Sam bows his head in prayer with the rest. Castiel does as well of course, but he always opens his eyes before it's done, and looks around at the table. Through the years, he's only ever seen Claire do the same.</p><p>The two of them would often meet gazes, and share a secret grin. But she doesn't today, and the prayer is heartfelt.</p><p>They talk about simple things for a while. What Sam did for a living – nothing, at present, but he'd planned to be a lawyer. Maybe he'll go back to school in the fall, though Sam looks down, clearly unsure about the future. Jimmy continues on with how many sales he's made lately, and Amelia politely laughs.</p><p>The food is good, for all Castiel can barely taste it. There's a tension in the air. He doesn't know how to dispel it, and he's always hated conflict. Taking a deep breath, he struggles to find the words.</p><p>“Thank you for having me.” Sam speaks before he can, bows his head. “I'm sure you're worried about your brother, but really, I - it means a lot to me. T-to be invited, I mean.”</p><p>“Should I be worried?” Jimmy raises a brow, glances at his daughter. “Claire, you're excused.”</p><p>“But Dad I wanted dessert-”</p><p>“Go do your homework, and no arguments. I'll come and get you in a half hour, and then we'll have pie. Depending on how much you've gotten done, maybe there'll be ice cream too.”</p><p>Sam's face falls as Claire's lights up. Castiel absently registers his niece laughing, and taking off up the stairs. But he's only got eyes for Sam, and how heartbroken he looks.</p><p>“You must understand.” It's Amelia who cuts in, to Castiel's surprise, once Claire is safely sequestered away from the adults. “We're only concerned about Castiel, and-”</p><p>“And a homeless, drunk drifter moves in with him. I get it, I do. I'd be suspicious of me too.”</p><p>“We don't mean any harm. I don’t think you do, either, but...” Jimmy scoots back from the table, hands folding in his lap. “I can tell my brother loves you, but Cas doesn't always have the best judge of character. Sorry, Castiel, but it's true.”</p><p>“You don't have to worry about me. I-” Sam looks so resigned. Castiel can’t stand it.</p><p>“Stop it!” Castiel scoots his chair back himself, hands gripping tight on the edge of the table. He feels his fingernails tear against the tablecloth, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. “I'm not a child, I haven't had a relapse in years-”</p><p>Shame burns hot inside him at Sam's surprised look. As if he thinks he's the only one with a dark past in this relationship. Ha, if only, if only.</p><p>“Cas, you know that's not what I meant-”</p><p>“Oh I know what you meant, Poor, Crazy Cas, he doesn't know what's good for him-”</p><p>“Enough, both of you!” Amelia stops them before they can really get started. “We'll admit we jumped the gun, and we have been ganging up on you – haven't we Jimmy?” The look she gives him demands no argument, and his brother wisely nods. “But we only do it out of worry. Castiel is family.”</p><p>Castiel finds himself sitting at that. She really does care, in her own way. Maybe only because her husband does, but it's care just the same. With an exaggerated sigh, Jimmy sits back down himself. Strange, Castiel doesn't remember him getting up.</p><p>Had he been that lost in his anger?</p><p>“You're right, of course you're right. What would I do without you? I'm sorry, Sam. Please forgive us.”</p><p>“It's...” Sam pauses, his fork in his hand as he scrapes it over the plate. He nods to himself, before looking up at them all. “I get it. Really. Last time I was interested in a w- in someone, my big brother objected. I think he was right to...”</p><p>Sam looks back down, gaze dark. Castiel aches to know the story there, but he doesn't press. Sam will tell him in due time, and there's so much he hasn't told Sam himself. Decades and decades of hardship he hasn't put to words.</p><p>“I think he'd like you, Cas. I think... no, I'm grateful you have someone looking out for you, like I did- I... I can't promise I won't hurt your brother, no one can promise that. But I'll do my best to make him happy, as long as he'll have me.”</p><p>“That's all anyone can ask.” Amelia scoots away from the table then, and begins to clean up. Castiel wants to help her, but he's too stunned at Sam's revelation.</p><p>As if Castiel could ever want him to leave.</p><p>The room is silent for a few minutes, only the sounds of ceramic on ceramic as the plates are cleared. Sam gets up to help Amelia, and the twins stare at each other, silently communicating.</p><p>Jimmy cocks his head to the right. Castiel mirrors him, tilting his head to the left. Jimmy's eyes ask if Sam is really worth all of this. Castiel nods, soft at first, then firmer. Yes, he thinks so. He hopes so.</p><p>Jimmy smiles, his eyes saying alright, I trust you, and nods back. He turns towards the sink, where Sam and Amelia have started the dishes.</p><p>“So... tell me about your brother? Or is the loss too recent?” His voice is kind, so kind, despite their rough start, and his concern over Castiel’s many, many issues.</p><p>For the first time tonight, Castiel finds himself grateful for his brother once more.</p><p>“Dean? ...It wasn't that long ago. God, only two months? Maybe less? I...”</p><p>“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.” Castiel interjects, full of concern.</p><p>“No, it's okay. Dean – Dean deserves to be celebrated. The last thing he ever did was save my life, and.. Dean was great. Always looking out for me, his dumb kid brother. More of a parent to me than our actual Dad.”</p><p>Sam talks on, and Castiel watches Jimmy as Sam speaks. He keeps an ear open, taking in Sam's words. But it's Jimmy who he's focused on, Jimmy, whose nodding along as Sam tells them about Dean's exploits.</p><p>He wishes he could've met Dean. He can't imagine losing Jimmy. He knows it would break him. But the depth of loss? He doesn’t want to think of it.</p><p>“Well...” Castiel says, breaking the silence when Sam's finished. “I'm no Dean, but... you've got me now.”</p><p>“You have all of us.” Amelia smiles as she sets down a pie on the table. It's crust is golden brown, and the lattice work is exquisite. So why does Sam look so sad?</p><p>“Thank you.” Is all Sam can say, and Castiel reaches out under the table to hold his hand.</p><p>Sam squeezes back. It doesn't feel like enough, and Castiel knows it will be a long time before the sorrow fades. If it ever does.</p><p>He hopes so. He wants to be there for Sam. Wants him to feel as at home at this table as Castiel feels, for all he thought Amelia didn't like him.</p><p>Family is family, and Sam deserves to be part of his.</p><p>~</p><p>“I'm so sorry for your loss.”</p><p>“My condolences.”</p><p>“They're in a better place, now.”</p><p>“Such brave, brave boys.”</p><p>On and on the empty platitudes go. Floating over Castiel, as he stands in front of the two coffins. Mother and Father would be proud of the efficiency, if nothing else. He doesn't say as much, only watches as his twin runs his hands along the closed caskets.</p><p>One, after the other. Jimmy's hands linger on Mother's white roses and calla lilies, stroking them softly. On top of Father's red roses and white carnations, he offers a firm pat before pulling his hand back and sighing.</p><p>Castiel can't move. His own hands remain clasped tight behind his back, his breath even and long. If he doesn't focus on keeping it that way, he knows he'll pass out. People keep talking, and he doesn’t look at their faces.</p><p>“Such a tragedy.”</p><p>“You boys keep in touch now, you hear?”</p><p>If Jimmy responds, Castiel doesn't hear it. He can't think of a reply himself. Maybe he manages a nod. Maybe he doesn't. It's not important. How can anything be important, ever again?</p><p>All he can do is stare straight ahead as the service starts. Jimmy's knee bounces next to his own, which is stiff as the two corpses that were once their parents. People share stories of Mom and Dad, Mother and Father, but Castiel can’t say what they were of.</p><p>All too soon, his parents are being lowered in the ground. Right next to each other. Together in death.</p><p>More people offer their sympathies, and Castiel thinks someone squeezes his shoulder, maybe even gives him a hug or two. It’s so hard to tell. Everything around him is white. There's no rain, but the overcast sky heralds a coming storm.</p><p>Faintly he registers the sounds of people driving off. One by one, until it's just the two of them.</p><p>“So... it's just us, now.” Jimmy leans back to look up at the sky. His head at such an angle Castiel can't tell if he's crying or not.</p><p>That's the appropriate response here, right? Tears? So why is it all Castiel feels is... nothing? A great, lingering numbness spreading through him, from the middle of his chest down to the tips of his toes. It catches in his throat, locks tight any words he wants to say.</p><p>A car crash. Worse than that; a several car pile up. Their mother was decapitated, their father defenestrated. He should be glad it was quick, and he likes to think he would be. If he could feel anything at all.</p><p>Raising his hand, Castiel stares at it. His thought moved it, and he watches as his fingers wiggle at his command. But it feels like it isn't his hand at all, like he's not in his body but merely watching the entire thing from a distance.</p><p>“Cas. Say something.” Jimmy turns to look at him then, his eyes raw and red. “You haven't said anything in days. Please.”</p><p>What can Castiel even say?</p><p>How could this happen? They were good people? What are they going to do without their parents? Jimmy must know the answers. It happened because their dad was following too closely to someone, and a drunk driver hit the gas when he meant to hit the brakes.</p><p>Bad things happen to good people all the time. That’s life. It’s not fair. It never has been.</p><p>They're in their twenties. Castiel just finished college, and Jimmy's been on his own longer than that. At least Mother and Father got to see him walk down the aisle. They even got to see him own his own home, where Castiel still rents an apartment.</p><p>“Don't do this to me. Don't shut down. Not again. Not to me!” His voice starts soft and turns pleading, escalates into anger. “Damn it, Castiel! I can't take care of you anymore, I've got – Amelia's pregnant.”</p><p>That does make Castiel turn, and blink, and study his brother. What is it people say in these situations? Oh yes.</p><p>“Congratulations.”</p><p>“Congratulations? Really?” Jimmy's fists clench tight at his sides, and he shakes, looking down. Then raises his chin to look his brother in the eyes. “The first word out of you in days and it's 'Congratulations'?”</p><p>Castiel tilts his head in reply. He thinks maybe he shrugs, but his shoulders feel as leaden as his feet.</p><p>“I know they weren't perfect parents Cas, but-”</p><p>It wasn't Jimmy they locked in a hospital on and off for most of his childhood. It wasn't Jimmy they made memorize bible verses, it wasn't Jimmy they told to be silent in church. It wasn’t Jimmy they were embarrassed about.</p><p>But Jimmy saw it all. He did his best to make it right, to always be there for Castiel, even when their parents couldn’t deal with him anymore. It’s past time Castiel set him free. And he knows, despite their failings -</p><p> </p><p>“They cared.” One foot in front of the other. Arms opening wide, Castiel wraps them around his brother. Moves his chin so it's under his own. “You don't have to take care of me, anymore.”</p><p>So this is what it's like to hold someone as they cry. He's never done it before. Ten, fifteen years prior, and often would this situation be reversed. Castiel in Jimmy's arms as he sobs and pleads for the nightmares to stop, for God not to be so angry with him.</p><p>He's not sure he likes being on the receiving end. His brother, always so strong, now broken like a puppet with its strings cut.</p><p>“How could God do this to us? Why would he take them away?” Jimmy manages to get out between wet hucks and gasped whimpers.</p><p>“It wasn't God. God doesn't decide when people die, his angels only watch over those who have.” Will Mother and Father like Heaven, he wonders? Then he wonders what he's talking about. It's been years since he spoke like that.</p><p>Not since he turned eighteen. When the nightmares, when the voices stopped.</p><p>“Damn it Castiel!” Jimmy shoves him away, hard enough Castiel falls onto his ass. “I don't have time for your blasphemy! You’ve gotten so much better, why - why now...”</p><p>He lands hard against a nearby gravestone. Dimly, Castiel registers a deep ache in his elbow, and a sense of wetness followed by pain, and when he looks down he's surprised to see blood soaking his shirt.</p><p>He can only blink at it for several minutes before looking up. Jimmy's on his knees, palms shoved in his mouth as he screams.</p><p>His feelings for his parents are complicated things. They loved him, loved them both. They tried to take care of him. Tried to do what was best; turning to medicine when the scripture didn't help him. That’s more than many can say, he knows that.</p><p>Castiel will always resent them for calling him a liar, even years later when he can admit it was a problem with his brain, and not real. He shouldn’t have claimed to know better than the Bible, better than God.</p><p>But Jimmy doesn't deserve this pain. Crawling on his hands and knees to reach him, he wraps his arms around his twin once more. His hands start to feel like his own again, as he runs then up and down the shaking back.</p><p>“Sssh, sssh. I'm here. Let me take care of you, for once. It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here.”</p><p>Castiel can't say how long they stay there, under the greying sky. Something changes when they leave. Maybe for the better. Maybe for the worse. Only time will tell. Either way, they're on the same page again. Mourning in their own ways, and understanding that.</p><p>It's hard. Castiel envies how Jimmy can pray to God, to ask him what to do. For guidance. Even if Castiel tried, he knows he would find no help there. Not anymore.</p><p>~</p><p>July eases into August, warm nights giving way to cooler evenings, though Autumn has yet to grace the world. Sam is still with him. Castiel's little fixer upper feels more like a home than any other he's ever had.</p><p>Most of the projects he'd put off for... never, really; are finished, fresh coats of paint in each room. Appliances fixed up, only a few major things like the roof and the fence left. Sam hadn't even argued when the mattress movers showed up to install their new bed.</p><p>Though Castiel had found extra money in his wallet the next day. He'd only rolled his eyes, and decided to spend it all on his boyfriend.</p><p>Boyfriend, lover. It takes some getting used to, but Castiel finds he likes the taste of it on his tongue. It's as welcome as the warmth he comes home to each day. So it's with dread that he opens the door to a worried Gracie.</p><p>She whines when she sees him, then barks as she paws at her leash. It swings from its hook, and Castiel's heart sinks to the bottom of his chest.</p><p>“Sam?” He calls, knowing it's futile. Of course this would happen, just when Castiel got used to having someone around.</p><p>Sam's nowhere to be found. He almost gives in to despair, when it occurs to him the Impala is still outside. Clipping Gracie's leash to her collar, he leaves the house behind him.</p><p>Though he feels a fool as he stares at the empty street outside. What was he expecting, for Gracie to lead him to his love once more?</p><p>“Can you?” He looks down at her, and she looks up at him, pink tongue panting in the evening gloom. For once he curses his tendency to stay late at the office. If only he'd been here earlier... What if he's being silly, and Sam's only gone for a run?</p><p>Without Gracie? No. Sam wouldn't. He can't say how he knows, just that he does. Something's terribly wrong.</p><p>As if sensing his thoughts, Gracie licks at his hand, and begins to tug on her leash. Castiel follows her willingly, foolishly. She's just a dog. A very clever dog, perhaps. But still a dog. She only wants her evening walk.</p><p>She won't take him to Sam. This isn't a movie. So why is it he finds himself running behind her as she leads on, and on through the streets.</p><p>Air burns in his lungs, sweat pouring down his back. His office wear isn't suited to sports. He hasn't even taken off his coat, but he only pauses a minute to consider the spectacle he makes as it billows behind him.</p><p>A madman and his mad beast, hunting for their prey. Castiel would laugh if he didn't think he'd start crying. He needs Sam like air.</p><p>Gracie leads him past the sidestreets and the sidewalks. Past the gravel and on to earthen paths. Houses disappear as they head deeper into nature, trees shooting up beside them. Castiel pauses as he considers their surroundings.</p><p>They're heading to a graveyard? At this time of night? He knows the local teens hang out there at times, to get high and scare each other as a thrill, but why would Sam be there?</p><p>It's then he hears the shouting. While he can't make out what's being said, he recognises one of the voices.</p><p>Sam, his heart beats. Sam, Sam's here, Sam didn't leave him, Sam still loves him, Oh, Sam.</p><p>Yet he pauses, seeing him with a woman. Her hair is black as night and her skin is pale. Castiel's mind doesn't suggest infidelity, no, something else, some long hidden instinct has him slowing down his steps. Beside him, Gracies hackles rise and a low growl begins in her throat.</p><p>He drops a hand down to hush her, and sneaks ever closer, ears open and feet soft on the ground below.</p><p>“I told you no.” Sam looks past frustrated and approaching anger, his tall figure looming over the woman. He keeps clenching his fists and palming his side before pulling away to circle back around her once more.</p><p>Is he armed? Castiel has seen a few of the weapons his boyfriend carries around, and while he's curious, he's never asked why Sam practically carries an armory on his person. They'll get to that, someday.</p><p>He hopes. If whatever is going on doesn't ruin everything.</p><p>“After everything I've done for you, Sam? The colt? Lilith? Oh, I don't know, saving your life?” The woman throws her arms out wide in anger, stepping up close into Sam's personal space. “I even took on coma girl here because you objected to free range secretary!”</p><p>“Yeah, and you know what, Ruby? She told me not to trust you. You've always helped, but it's been at a price, always keeping something back from me. I'm grateful, but all you've done to me is lie!”</p><p>“All I've done for you is help!”</p><p>“Some help! My brother is in hell because of you!” Sam shouts back, practically growling the words.</p><p>“Because of me? Ha. Your brother damned himself. I did everything for you I could! Would you even have listened if I told you there was no way to save him? I gave you hope, Sam!”</p><p>“False hope!”</p><p>“It's better than nothing! Now, you won't even hear me out when I'm offering revenge? I swear, it's like you don't even care about Dean.”</p><p>“And you do?” Sam's voice turns low and dangerous, and Castiel sees the glint of metal as he pulls a knife from somewhere on his person.</p><p>“What, are you going to stab me? Done drowning yourself in the drink? That's good Sam, hold on to that anger. We can use that.”</p><p>Gracie whines then, tugging at her leash, and the spell is broken. Castiel can only stare dumbfounded; their words echoing in his mind. What happened in his boyfriend's past? Save Dean? What?</p><p>He gasps in pain as Gracie pulls out of his hold with a bark and dashes towards Sam. Shaking his hand, he bites at his lips to try to muffle the sound. But it's too late.</p><p>The two of them are staring back.</p><p>“And who is this?” The woman, Ruby, puts her hands on her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Another lamb for you to lead to slaughter? I thought you understood, Sam. You're not normal, it's time to stop pretending. Embrace it. Come with me, we can put an end to Lilith. Together.”</p><p>There's something wrong with her face. Oh god, what is wrong with her face? It’s black and twisted, shifting like she isn’t human.</p><p>“Castiel, take Gracie and go back to the house. We'll talk later.” Sam kneels down to pet Gracie, smiling despite his clear worry. She refuses to leave, and he sighs. “I promise girl, everything's going to be alright.”</p><p>“Sam, I-” Castiel's filled with something deeper than worry, something foreboding and instinctual.</p><p>He's never seen his lover like this before. He knows Sam has a dark side he keeps hidden from him, he's seen the look in his eyes after a nightmare. He's held him as he's cried, muttering about demons.</p><p>Sam always seemed better by the light of day. Castiel had assumed he was being metaphorical, but all this talk of hell makes him question. Calls forth long buried memories, and he brings his hands to his head, grips at his scalp.</p><p>There's high pitched ringing in his ears, frequencies he was never meant to understand in this form. He goes to his knees, grunting in pain.</p><p>“Cas?” Sam rushes forward, Gracie pattering behind him.</p><p>It happens so fast. One moment, Sam's arms are outstretched, preparing to help Castiel up. The next, Ruby's arms are raised, and he goes flying through the air. The blade lies forgotten on the ground.</p><p>Gracie's fur stands on end and her back arches high as she growls at the woman. Sam lets out a pained groan, his hand on his head.</p><p>“I'm not some dirty little secret, Sam. I'm not someone you can just discard.” Ruby cocks her head at Gracie, and snorts. She flings her arm again, and Gracie goes flying. “Cute mutt. Real cute.”</p><p>Castiel can't see where his dog has gone. He only hears her let out a pained yelp, then go silent.</p><p>There's no time to worry about her. Ruby's advancing on Sam. He doesn't know their history, but Castiel can tell she's pissed. More than that, she's desperate.</p><p>He has to ignore the ringing in his ears. Has to push back the angry voices he doesn't know <b>how</b> he can understand. They're speaking no language known to man.</p><p>Ruby's in front of Sam now. Sam's glaring defiantly up at her.</p><p>Castiel's going for the knife before he realizes what he's doing. He's never held a weapon before, never fought, but it feels natural to hold the blade in his hands. Familiar, almost, similar to greeting an old friend.</p><p>He's silent on his feet, he's sure of it, the blade raising high. But it doesn't matter, Ruby turns just as he plunges it down. She catches it by the blade, and laughs as it slices open her palm, like Castiel's done her a favor.</p><p>Then she pauses, fear filling her eyes.</p><p>“You're... what are you?”</p><p>“Cas, run-” Sam tries to warn, tries to save him. It's too little too late.</p><p>The blade is out of his hands before he can so much as blink. Ruby holds it tight, despite the blood pouring down her arm. It flashes in an arc before burying deep in his chest.</p><p>“CAS!”</p><p>Strange. Castiel can barely register the pain. He can feel his blood pouring out of the edges of the wound, his heart struggling to beat. He stares down at it, his hand coming up to grip the hilt, to pull it part way out, before his eyes roll back in his head and he hits the ground.</p><p>He hears Ruby laugh, though everything is going dim. There's impossibly more pain; the blade being pulled the rest of the way out of his chest. Blood bubbles in his lungs.</p><p>Castiel knows he should be dead, knows he doesn't have much time. He wants to say goodbye. He wants to say so many things.</p><p>He manages to open his eyes long enough to see Sam slam the blade home in Ruby's heart with a wild cry. She glows orange for a moment before falling dead.</p><p>Deader than himself. How is he still alive? He can't see anything. It's too hard to focus.</p><p>“Cas! Oh god, please, not Cas too, please, Castiel, don't leave don't leave no no no” Sam's kneeling, Sam's scooping him up.</p><p>Everything's so cold. Not long now.</p><p><em>Sorry, Sam. Sorry, Jimmy. Love you.</em> Was that out loud? It’s too hard...</p><p>“Don't try to talk oh god please, Cas.”</p><p>Brilliant white light fills the graveyard. It’s warm, friendly, sarcastic - but it’s just light? The ringing gets louder and louder as the light glows ever warmer, ever brighter.</p><p>Then, it goes away. So does the pain. Castiel opens his eyes once more.</p><p>“Pro tip, you little monkey. Don't pray to the big man upstairs, you never know who's listening.” A man is kneeling next to them. His hand is on Castiel's chest, and there's a glowing light coming from it.</p><p>The pain is but a distant memory when he pulls his hand away. There's a hole in Castiel’s shirt, but no blood. Not even a scar.</p><p>The man stands then, and dusts off his pants. He's got styled, slightly curled hair and a black leather jacket. He smirks down at them both.</p><p>Castiel looks at Sam, and imagines he looks as dumbfounded as Castiel feels.</p><p>Gracie limps up to them, whining slightly as she presses against the man's side. He sighs, before kneeling down and healing her as well. She wags her tail and barks. The man rolls his eyes, before turning to them both.</p><p>“Oh, Cassie. What have you gotten yourself into now?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam feels like he's in a dream. When he doesn't feel like he's trapped in a nightmare. Depends on the day, really.</p>
<p>One moment, he's happily talking to Cas as the two of them eat breakfast. The next, he's alone once more, save for Gracie. She tries, head on his knee, adoring eyes gazing up at him, but even the steadfast love of a dog isn't enough to keep Sam from the truth.</p>
<p>Happy as he is? It's tainted, tinged by the knowledge his big brother, his protector; is trapped in hell. Because of him.</p>
<p>They’re a few days into August. Month three without Dean. Month three of Dean... Sam doesn't want to think about it, but he can't stop.</p>
<p>While he's up here, falling deeper in love with the most patient man he's ever met; Dean's...</p>
<p>Gracie whines beside him, practically crawling into his lap. She's near a hundred pounds, and every single one of them is determined to cheer him up.</p>
<p>Sam sighs, and settles in for a long day with his tortuous thoughts. He'd wanted to get started on the fence, or maybe look at a few of the local community college websites for the fall, but...</p>
<p>That was too close to giving up on rescuing Dean for Sam to admit. Ruby hasn't been around for nearly three weeks, and even she only offered revenge, not salvation for his brother.</p>
<p>Head in his hands, Sam passes the day slowly. He eats when his stomach rumbles, manages a walk around the house once or twice, but taking Gracie for her accustomed runs isn't happening. She seems to understand, becoming his shadow instead.</p>
<p>Sam wishes Castiel was here. He wishes he could tell Cas everything. Maybe he will, someday, but he's not ready to say goodbye yet. Keeping Jess in the dark hadn't saved her, and he knows the same could happen with Cas.</p>
<p>But he's not ready for the accusations of lying, or worse, the pity at perceived insanity. Will Cas leave him, decide that this is a step too far, even with all the crap Sam's flung at him?</p>
<p>God, the man introduced him to his family. Cas must be just as serious about this as Sam is, has to know Sam's holding back.</p>
<p>Sam lays down on the couch with a sigh. The sun's lowering, but won't set for hours yet. Gracie whines from her place beside him, despite being banned from the couch. It's okay. Sam won't tell if she won't.</p>
<p>“What would telling him even accomplish, Gracie?” running his fingers through the dogs coarse fur, Sam shakes his head. “Dean's still in hell either way. If Bobby didn't know a way to get someone out, then-”</p>
<p>Sam blinks.</p>
<p>“Bobby... I should probably give him a ring. You'd like him. He says dogs are for work, for protection, but he'd slip you bacon grease when my back's turned... Not sure what he'll make of Cas, but... Bobby's not bad. He'll be weirded out for a while then be happy I'm happy.”</p>
<p>It occurs to Sam then that he's talking to a dog. That he's making plans for the future, with a dog. Sure, those plans include her, but still.</p>
<p>“Gracie?” He may as well give in. “What am I going to do?”</p>
<p>She has no answer for him other than a wagging tail and a lick to his hand. Sam has to smile in response. Figures. She is a dog, after all. A very sweet dog, but still.</p>
<p>A very sweet dog whose suddenly growling, and running to the door, claws click click clacking against the wood. She pounces at the door, sounding fiercer and more determined than Sam's ever seen her.</p>
<p>His heart seizes, remembering invisible fangs and claws tearing at his brother.</p>
<p>But it's just Gracie, and he swings to his feet. A gun's at his side, and he grabs Ruby's knife, just in case. He slips it into his boot, and grabs some salt from the kitchen. It won't buy him much time, but better than nothing.</p>
<p>It's only been a few weeks and he's getting soft. Dad would be ashamed, let alone Dean.</p>
<p>Ruby's at the door. Sam fantasizes about setting Gracie on her, but he shoves her into the kitchen and opens it. Glares at her, hands gripping his gun tight.</p>
<p>“Now, Sam, is that any way to treat an old friend?”</p>
<p>“You're no friend of mine.”</p>
<p>Still, he agrees to hear her out. But not here, she won’t taint his home. She won’t get near Cas with her venom and her false promises.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>He wishes he hadn't. God, he wishes he hadn't, as desperate prayers leave him. Both vocally and not, Sam prays with all his souls might as he holds Castiel in his arms. Ruby got him in his heart, he's bleeding out and fast, Sam knows this.</p>
<p>There's no saving him but he begs and begs and begs. Sam can't see for the tears. Then there's a flash of light, a roar in his ears; someone’s shoving him from Cas and – Sam's desperate, but he pauses, because Castiel's eyes are no longer losing their brilliant blue.</p>
<p>Cas is blinking at him in bewilderment. Sam can only do the same.</p>
<p>When the stranger heals Gracie, it's then he realizes what's happened. For a moment Sam's grateful, then anger fills him.</p>
<p>“Who are you?! What are you?!” When has anyone ever done something good for free? Never, not once in Sam's life. He doesn't like how close the man is getting to his boyfriend either.</p>
<p>He grabs the knife again, and the man sighs. With a snap of his fingers, Sam's flying. He hits a gravestone hard enough a rib cracks for the second time that night.</p>
<p>Sam has months of pain ahead of him but he doesn't care; a call to save Cas protect Cas can't lose Cas not him too – pumps through his veins. Yet he can't move, can't even speak. He's too winded.</p>
<p>“First you want me to save Castiel, then you want me to get away from him. I know thoughts so hard and confusing for you little primitive primates, but you'd think you could make up your mind.” The man's running a hand through his hair, straightening it though nothing is out of place.</p>
<p>Gracie whines from beside him, and the man sighs. “Your human is fine, dear. I didn't throw him that hard.”</p>
<p>“I know you.” Cas speaks up, and he's circling the strange man with an even stranger look in his eyes. He tilts his head from one side to the other, then squints. “How do I know you?”</p>
<p>“Ah, Cas. That is the question, isn't it?” The man loses his cocky attitude for a fraction of a second, his form slumping and his eyes turning sad. “I'd hoped you wouldn't, miss you though I do. I'd hoped I'd only see you again after it was all over. Hoped you'd be safe, and secure in heaven once more, planned to sneak you in myself if...”</p>
<p>The man trails off. Sam doesn't know what to think. Heaven? He's always believed in it, always known that God must exist, and Angels too. Dad and Dean might think only the bad is true, but for every evil there has to be a good. There has to be a sort of cosmic balance to it all.</p>
<p>It only makes sense. Yet... he doesn't know what this man is saying. He draws himself to his feet, slowly and painfully, limping as he takes careful step after careful step to end up next to Cas.</p>
<p>Castiel, for his part, doesn't even notice him. He looks lost, almost, his eyes trained fully on the man before them. Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, letting out a breath of relief.</p>
<p>The man means no harm to Cas, at least.</p>
<p>“Then, you had to go bollocks it up, didn't you?” The man raises his head, attention focused on them once more. “Cassie, what are you thinking, getting involved with one of the harbingers of the apocalypse?! It was always going to be tough, sneaking you back in, but then you went and entangled yourself with the Morning Star's true vessel!”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about? Who are you, anyway?” It hurts to raise his arm high, but Sam manages to pull Castiel behind him. Gracie seems determined to help, and stands in front of Sam herself.</p>
<p>Castiel goes willingly, even more lost than before.</p>
<p>“But... how do I know you?”</p>
<p>The man lets out a frustrated little sound, not quite a sigh nor a growl of exasperation. His hands are on both of them before Sam can draw his weapon, then there's a sound like fluttering wings or a rush of feathers.</p>
<p>His stomach twists and the world spins. By the time Sam's blinked, they're back in the house. The strange man is cutting into his hands with his teeth, and writing seals on the walls.</p>
<p>“What are you-” Sam starts, earning an eye roll from the man.</p>
<p>“Shut up, I'm doing this to protect you; could've just left you there, but no, Cas seems attached to you. Always got so attached to his little pets, the dog I can understand, but you-”</p>
<p>“Please. How do I know you?” Castiel steps forward, Gracie on his heels. He doesn't stop the man from his work, seeming to sense its importance.</p>
<p>At least, Sam hopes so. He's half inclined to go for the knife again, or his gun while the man's distracted. Before he can finish whatever he's doing. As if he can read his thoughts, the man grumbles again and pauses.</p>
<p>There's another flutter of wings, and he's right beside Sam. His hands press up against Sam's ribs, and the pain is gone.</p>
<p>“There. That enough to earn your trust, little monkey?” Another eyeroll and he's working on even more seals. “Why couldn't you shack up with an active hunter, Cassie, then I'd at least have the supplies at hand but no, I've got to go old school here.”</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” It's all too much. The guy's obviously supernatural; he's healed everyone in the room by now. Sam's reminded of Lenore, the vegetarian vampire, but this guy's attitude needs adjusting and bad.</p>
<p>“Buying us some time. I shouldn't even be here, it's forbidden, you know? But of course me and my bloody soft spot for Cas here, always sticking out my neck. And you're never grateful, either.” The man smears another streak of blood on the walls, inspects it, and nods. “Well. Come on then. I've bought myself an hour or so. You have questions, Cassie? Ask them.”</p>
<p>With a wave of his hands, the man's sitting down on the couch. “And please tell me you have alcohol. Preferably a white, I'm feeling a bit parched.”</p>
<p>“Sam? Under the cabinet.”</p>
<p>“But -” At Cas's look, Sam nods. The man won't hurt his boyfriend in the five minutes it will take him to get the wine. He's had plenty of chances to already.</p>
<p>All the same, Sam hurries back with the bottle and the glasses. When he returns, Castiel is sitting on the loveseat, Gracie curled up by his feet. Sam sets the bottle down on the console table and sits down on Cas's other side.</p>
<p>“Please.” Castiel folds his hands in his lap, and leans into Sam when he places a hand on his shoulder. He lets out a long, weary sigh. “My head's a mess, but I swear I know you... why can't I remember your name?”</p>
<p>“Ah, Cas. You always had too much heart. I'd hoped this would be good for you, after I was done being angry... but you're still sad, aren't you...” The man sighs again, and takes a deep drink of his wine. “Very well. My name is Balthazar, and we were once brothers.”</p>
<p>“The only brother I know is Jimmy, and he’s...”</p>
<p>“Your human brother, yes, but – Cas... and you-” Balthazar nods at Sam, “This story is a long one, and I don't have much time to tell it. So don't interrupt.”</p>
<p>They both nod, and Balthazar starts his tale.</p>
<p>“Whatever you know about God, or Angels – it's probably wrong. But let's start at the beginning anyway; nothing, then God, boom, let there be light; all that bullshit. A gross exaggeration; but seven days and you humans are around. But before that, there was us.”</p>
<p>Balthazar gestures to himself, then after a pause; Castiel.</p>
<p>“I'm...”</p>
<p>“Anyway. It was much more than seven days; evolution doesn't happen that quickly, but this story isn’t about you humans. It's about  us Angels. Specifically, what happens when one of them doesn't want to be an Angel anymore. Anna did it first, but Cas here followed, and damn, Cassie. Did you have to time travel as you fell?”</p>
<p>Sam finds himself staring at Castiel. An... Angel, a fallen one? Like Lucifer, the devil? A moment of fear fills him before he pushes it to the side. No, Cas is nothing but kind. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it as Balthazar glares at him.</p>
<p>Balthazar rolls his shoulders then, and there's a crack of thunder outside for all it was a pleasant summer evening a moment ago. Impossibly, the shadows of great, long wings tinged gold arch across the room for several seconds before disappearing.</p>
<p>“Yes. You were an Angel. Like me. But you began to doubt, and after our comrade Anna left... after she tore out her grace, you were lost. You really messed things upstairs, you know? We couldn't find you at first, since you went back even further than she did – and by the time we figured out what you'd done, who you were, well. You were human enough we couldn't touch you.”</p>
<p>“An Angel can become human?” Sam can't keep himself quiet. He gets an eye roll from Balthzar but presses on. “Please. I'm just trying to understand.”</p>
<p>“Yes and we're all very proud of you for that. Look, I don't have much time left and this isn't even the crux of the matter, but take away an Angel's grace, their very being, and what's left but human? Cas, what do you remember about your birth?”</p>
<p>“I... was an infant at the time, but... I remember my Mother saying I was a complete surprise...” Castiel's cold against Sam, shivering despite the summer heat.</p>
<p>“And how does that happen? A whole nother baby, just 'surprising' someone? Cas. You remember more than that.”</p>
<p>Slowly, ever so slowly, Castiel closes his eyes and places his head in his hands. He nods softly, shivering even more. Sam doesn't know what to do, and he trades looks with an oddly sympathetic Balthazar.</p>
<p>“I'm not trying to hurt you, Cassie. I know you've only ever wanted to be happy... and maybe you could've been... but. You just had to go shack up with that big lug over there-”</p>
<p>“What exactly is your problem with me, anyway?” Sam's running his hand up and down Castiel's back. All he really wants to do is make Balthazar stop, shut him up before he hurts Castiel further. He spares a minute to wonder if Dean would be proud of him for wanting to take on an angel. Speaking of -</p>
<p>“You're an Angel?” Sam snorts, shaking his head. “Cas makes sense, but you?”</p>
<p>“Yes well. Surprise and all that.” Balthazar gives an exaggerated bow. “Everything you ever dreamed of? No? Too bad, so sad; what you see is what you get. Right now, I'm probably the only one on your side, so buck up and shut the fuck up, I'm not done.”</p>
<p>With a nod and a roll of his eyes, Sam goes quiet once more. This isn't about him, for all it's too much too fast. He can barely absorb it. Cas is what's important here. Cas... an Angel? He turns to look at him, really look at him, like he hasn’t before.</p>
<p>Yeah, Sam can see it. Who else would take him in so easily, fall in love with him so quickly? For all Sam doesn't deserve it and never has.</p>
<p>Sam's always believed in Angels, and he definitely believes in Cas. Wrapping his arms around Castiel, he holds him tight as he lays his head on top of the others. Balthazar looks torn between exasperation and nauseation at the display.</p>
<p>“I've always followed Castiel's lead, but I couldn't this time. But I did protect you where I could, you have to believe that, Cas. Remember how your dreams slowly got better, then stopped one day?”</p>
<p>“When I was a teenager, yes...” Castiel finally looks up, nodding.</p>
<p>“That was me. You're welcome.” Balthazar gives another, smaller bow. “Took some convincing, let me tell you. Maybe all for naught, 'cause that guy right there is bad news. Cassie, baby, you're with Lucifer's true vessel there.”</p>
<p>Castiel tilts his head to the side, and Sam finds himself copying the move.</p>
<p>“See, when an Angel comes to Earth – which we have been forbidden to do for ages now, thanks again for getting me in trouble – they need a vessel. A human, to invite them in, so they can walk and talk and not destroy your feeble little bodies.”</p>
<p>“You're talking about possession.” Sam starts to sit up in alarm before Balthazar sighs.</p>
<p>“If you want to get technical about it, yes. But the human has to give permission. And before you go worrying about this guy,” Balthazar motions towards himself. Or rather, the human he's possessing. “He was fine with it. An art dealer, bored out of his mind. We're going to have some fun.”</p>
<p>“Am I possessing someone, then?” Castiel speaks up, pale as death and eyes worried. “I – if I've been... since birth...”</p>
<p>“No. Your earthly mother was nice enough to... well, say yes, and your brother was fine with you copying his form. Got to say, I love you Cas, but you've never had much imagination.”</p>
<p>“And I'm...” Something clicks in Sam. “I'm... Lucifer is supposed to possess me?”</p>
<p>“After he's let out of his little box, yes. See Sam, when you humans came along, Old Lucy got jealous. Corrupted you, made the first demon – Lilith. God had Uncle Mikey cast him out and lock him up down below. Ever wonder why the demon blood? Why you of all people, are Azazel's star pupil?”</p>
<p>“Demon blood, what-” It's Castiel's turn to look confused, and Sam winces.</p>
<p>“I was going to tell you...”</p>
<p>“Well too bloody late! See Castiel, you're with a hunter, one of the rare humans who keeps back the darkness yadda yadda yadda, live fast die young. And not just any old hunter, Sam Winchester, the Morning Star's true vessel. Brother to the Michael Sword, Michaels true vessel.”</p>
<p>“...Dean...” Sam feels sick. His entire life has felt like a lie, and now he knows it to be one.</p>
<p>“Yeeep. See Sam, no matter what you did, your life was always going to end up like this. You're going to break the last seal, but that brother of yours will break the first. He's held out for twenty years now, but sooner or later, the righteous man will spill innocent blood in hell. And we're all fucked.”</p>
<p>The windows shake hard enough that the glass begins to shatter. Balthazar sighs.</p>
<p>“Well, almost out of time. I'll help when I can, but the first steps up to you. You want to save yourselves? Stop the apocalypse from ever happening.”</p>
<p>“How do we do that?!” Sam shouts in alarm, thoughts at war with each other. His whole life he's been damned. Somehow he always knew, but to have it confirmed, by an angel no less? He feels worse than sick, he feels - he feels … fuck. There are no words.</p>
<p>The whole house is shaking, and Gracie whimpers and whines before ducking underneath a table.</p>
<p>“Go get Dean out of hell before he breaks, then kill the last seal before the first is ever broken.” Shrugging, Balthazar turns to the window. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I'll be back soon. Just cleaning up a mess. Anyway, guys, I'll buy you time, but you're on your own for the rest.”</p>
<p>“And how would we get Dean out of hell?” Castiel's voice is oddly calm. Sam turns to him, and he can see by the look on Castiel's face that he already knows. But wishes, hopes to be wrong. Sam has a sinking feeling he’ll want that too.</p>
<p>“Well Cas, you've got to find your grace and become an Angel again. Sorry. I know you were close to happy like this, but all good things must end.”</p>
<p>With another shrug and the sound of fluttering wings, Balthazar is gone. The blood seals flash a moment before fading, sinking into the wood. Outside returns to normal; the growing storm dissipating and the evening sky visible once more.</p>
<p>Sam and Castiel look at each other. It's a lot.</p>
<p>“I...”</p>
<p>“Sam...”</p>
<p>They both start at once, then laugh. They’re hollow laughs, not brought on by joy but exhaustion. Too much, too fast - but all so true.</p>
<p>“I'll go first, okay? There's a lot I need to tell you. About myself... and Dean.”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>They talk for hours. Only stopping to pet Gracie, who wanders between the two of them, offering comfort. Sam tells Castiel everything. The whole sad, sordid little tale of his life.</p>
<p>He starts at the beginning, with Azazel at his crib. How he was building an army of special kids, his psychic children. Mom, burning on the ceiling, and how it drove Dad to hunting. At least finding out he's an Angel, or was, keeps Castiel from doubting him.</p>
<p>The way Dad’s need for revenge seeped into every crack of Sam's life. How it stifled him, and how he got away for a time, only to lose Jess too.</p>
<p>Dean. How much his brother meant to him, means to him; and how Dean felt the same. Castiel sits silently, listening as he runs his fingers through Gracie's coarse fur. Sam's voice breaks as he talks about his own death, and Dean's demon deal.</p>
<p>How he almost gave into the need for revenge once more, but the girl stopped him, got him to thinking. Anger, hate, revenge? Had torn up his family ever since he was born. Sam wants to believe he's brave to have stopped this time, but instead he just feels like a coward. Like he gave up.</p>
<p>Castiel waits several minutes until it becomes clear Sam is done. Then he tells his own tale.</p>
<p>“Ever since I was young, I've felt wrong. Like... I'm not human. Just copying; Jimmy mostly... he's always been there for me. I can't imagine... You and Dean? That... I get it now. I'd make a deal to, but apparently I don't have a soul to sell.” Castiel laughs, but it's a hollow, wet sound. Like he's not surprised.</p>
<p>“I did try, didn't even want ten years or a year. Just to take his place. But no one would deal with me… Guess I know why, now.”</p>
<p>Cas looks like he wants to say something about that, but only sighs.</p>
<p>“Anyway... this makes so much sense. I've been... I think I always knew, way back in my mind. I'd correct my parents on the bible all the time as a child. It... it got me in trouble, Jimmy too when he'd stick up for me. ...Then the nightmares got worse, it must have been them... The Angels. I'd wake up screaming and crying, but it was worse when I was awake...”</p>
<p>Gracie whines once more, and climbs up into Cas's lap. Castiel doesn't seem to notice.</p>
<p>“What followed was... the first of several hospital stays. They tried everything. Prayer, Medicines, and they'd all work for awhile... then I'd wake up screaming again. Eventually everyone got tired of me, got tired of my damage...”</p>
<p>“Cas, that wasn't your fault.”</p>
<p>“Wasn't it? Turns out I'm an Angel. Turns out I ran from my duty.”</p>
<p>“From what Balthazar said, Angels...” Sam takes a deep breath. He turns inward, to the faith he's always had, and finds only anger now. “Angels are dicks. If they've been hurting you your whole life... fuck 'em.”</p>
<p>“Sam.” Castiel smiles at him, eyes half closed. “You can't mean that.”</p>
<p>“Can't I? Apparently my brother and me... my whole family, my entire life, it's all been some messed up little revenge plan. I thought Dad was bad, but this? You say you've always felt wrong, well I have to. And between the two of us, I'm the one with demon blood. So... trust me, man. You're all I've got now.”</p>
<p>“...What are we going to do?”</p>
<p>“I...” Sam doesn't know. Balthazar said Cas could stop this whole thing from ever starting, but can they really trust him? He could be holding things back, tipping the scales towards Heaven. From what Castiel's admitted, and what truth there might be in Balthazar's words... maybe that's not a good thing.</p>
<p>“I think we have to trust him.” Cas buries his head in Gracie's fur, closing his eyes tight. “Though I don't want to do this... Sam, I have to know. I have to... I have to protect you.”</p>
<p>“Cas, I can protect myself. I've been doing it a long time.” He almost adds how Castiel tried to protect him, and nearly died. Would have if not for Balthazar. But Sam's not about to rub salt in the wound, not with how defeated Castiel looks.</p>
<p>That and... even after all of this, he still loves him. Sam's dated a werewolf before, an Angel's a step up. It's not like Sam can claim to be pure human, anyway.</p>
<p>“That doesn't make it okay. Sam, it's more than that. I <b>want</b> to protect you, I want to <b>help</b> you. I want... I need to protect my family, to. I don't know how, but I can tell Balthazar isn't lying. He's... he's right. The dreams stopped, because of him. What if they come after Jimmy, after Claire? I can't protect them like this...” Castiel motions towards himself. “I’m worse than useless.”</p>
<p>“So... I guess next step is to find your grace.” Sam wants to argue with Cas, but... this might be his only chance to save Dean.</p>
<p>Saving Dean versus keeping Cas. Keeping this. It's not a fun weight to put on the scale. Why, for once in his miserable little life, can't he just be happy? Why can't he have both?</p>
<p>“Just... promise you'll remember me when you're an Angel again...”</p>
<p>Castiel answers him by gripping his chin, and tilting it down for a kiss. It’s desperate, Cas’s tongue finding Sams, and he only pulls away when they both need to breathe.</p>
<p>“I'll do my best. ...Where do we even start?”</p>
<p>“Well, I know a guy who might be able to help.” Sam had been thinking about calling Bobby up soon anyway. He just wishes the circumstances were better. Or anything else than this. Anything else at all.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Calling Bobby goes better than Sam expects. Bobby chews Sam out for a solid ten minutes; but even that's tinged with relief that he's still alive. Of course, once Sam gives him the bare bones of the issue, he chews Sam out a little more.</p>
<p>Then tells him to get his fool self to South Dakota, pronto. Sam gets chewed out for a third time when he says it might be a few days, but he's grateful Bobby's still talking to him. Maybe he's not as alone as he'd thought.</p>
<p>Once that's done, Sam turns to Castiel. He's watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. He's been doing that a lot, ever since Balthazar dropped the bomb. Sam supposes he can't blame him.</p>
<p>There hadn't been time at first; what with the whole dying thing, then taking care of Azazel; then trying to find a way to break Dean's deal without dying <b>again</b> to deal with the whole 'demon blood, head of a demon army'... thing. Not that Sam had done a great job of it; he'd downed so much booze he was near useless on the job.</p>
<p>Sam knows when there's a moment of peace, of quiet, he's going to have another little breakdown over being Lucifer's true vessel. If Pastor Jim could see him now... no, Sam sighs, shakes his head, and looks over at his boyfriend. There’s no time for his depression.</p>
<p>“Still want to do this? I can't promise how long we'll be gone, or well...” Sam has had moments of cruelty, of pulling the wool off civilians eyes roughly, but he doesn't want to do it to Cas. Not that he could be much rougher than Balthazar was. “Cas... I don't think there's any coming back from becoming an Angel again.”</p>
<p>“I know. Sam, I've been running from my past my whole life. I'm tired of it. I've already quit my job-”</p>
<p>“Whoa, Cas-”</p>
<p>“I never liked it anyway. It was just something I was good at. Numbers made sense, had order to them. Money was just a way to keep myself and Gracie fed.”</p>
<p>“Speaking of Gracie -” Sam pauses, considering. He'd been about to suggest taking her to the Novak's, remembering the way Claire asked about the dog. But then he recalled Bones, and how he'd missed him for weeks. “Why don't we take her with us? Bobby likes dogs.”</p>
<p>He quietly leaves out the part about how his last dog; Rumsfeld, got killed by a demon. He doesn't like to think about it much himself. The old rottweiler deserved better than that.</p>
<p>Cas shoots him a grateful look, as he leans down to pet her.</p>
<p>“I don't suppose she could be my grace?”</p>
<p>“No, I don't suppose. We're not that lucky.” Sam laughs, shaking his head.  “Besides, it'd have to be as old as you, right? And Gracie's, what? Four?”</p>
<p>“She's six, and I suppose you're right. It was just a thought.” Castiel pulls himself to his feet. “I'm as packed as I'll ever be.”</p>
<p>“And, your family? What are you going to tell them?”</p>
<p>“I'm not.” Cas shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Jimmy worries too much as it is, and. Well, there's no way to make this look good.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, there's really not.” Jimmy had been kind to him eventually, begrudgingly, which Sam understands. He would've been wary of himself, too. Cas suddenly quitting his job and running off with him? “Might be for the best they don't know. ...People in this line of work get hurt. Sometime’s not knowing is the kindest thing...”</p>
<p>Cas doesn't look like he believes Sam, but he offers a nod all the same. As if he's grateful for the lie. Sam hopes he won’t have to tell too many more. Somehow he doubts it though.</p>
<p>“Well...” Sam tries to think of a reason to hold off. He's not ready to leave this little dream just yet, much as his brother needs him, much as the world needs him, if Balthazar's to be believed. But in the end, there's nothing more he can say.</p>
<p>“I know it's late, but I'd like to get going, Sam.” Castiel heads towards the door, Gracie beside him.</p>
<p>There's the click of a leash, and a rustle of fabric as Cas pulls his bags up over his shoulder. Then, as the door shuts behind him, Sam's left alone.</p>
<p>He looks around at the house; the place which has quickly become a home. The walls he's painted, and the appliances he's fixed. Gracie's toys in one corner, beside her bed. The couch where Castiel and he spent hours making out, as well as… Why can’t he keep this? </p>
<p>Sam sighs. He knows he's not meant for normal life. So why does life keep dangling it in front of him, only to snatch it away?</p>
<p>Cas is waiting for him. Dean is, too. Sam has to leave. There's no choice, there never is, so he turns and refuses to look back. Tears sting at the corner of his eyes but don't fall. The click of the lock behind him has a note of finality.</p>
<p>All he can do is keep one foot in front of the other. It's all he's ever done. At least the Impala is happy to see him; Gracie in the back next to Castiel's bags, her head poking out the window. Cas sits in the passenger seat, and Sam finds his way to the drivers side. He’s never felt at home there, but he pats the dash all the same.</p>
<p>He silently lets the Impala know she won't have to deal with him driving her for much longer. If this all works out, Dean will be back and bitching about dog hair in his car soon enough. Sam would like to say he can’t wait.</p>
<p>But it hurts to turn the key, and leave his home behind.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The first thing Bobby does is greet them with a shotgun. Cas's eyebrows look about ready to fly off into space, but Sam can only laugh fondly.</p>
<p>“Don't worry, Cas. This is just his way of saying hello.” Sam reaches out, and takes the offered holy water laced drink, downing it one go. He hands the second drink to Cas and nods at him. “The sooner you prove you're human, the sooner he'll let us in.”</p>
<p>“I thought the whole point of this trip is I'm not?” Castiel's got that lost look in his eyes again. Sam hates that he put it there. But before he can say anything, Castiel's reaching out, and downing his own drink.</p>
<p>Bobby waits, shotgun at the ready, nodding and stepping aside when they both pass the test. Only to slice out with a hidden silver knife; first on Sam's arm, cutting through his shirt; then Cas, knicking him in his palm.</p>
<p>“Bobby what the hell-” Sam grips at his shoulder with a hiss, turning to glare at his father figure.</p>
<p>“Had to be sure, son. You don't answer my damn calls then you ring at midnight after two months?!” Bobby pulls back his knife and tosses it on the table, thick boots stomp stomping as he leads them inside. He disappears in the kitchen for a moment, comes back with his first aid kit. “What am I supposed to think, son?”</p>
<p>Sam nods his head to the side, because; fair point. Demon possession was easier for Dean to believe than angels as well.</p>
<p>Cas meanwhile is giving Sam a look like he thinks Sam got off easy when he was introduced to his own family. Wincing, Sam takes the first aid kit from Bobby, and tends to Castiel's wound. It's shallow, as Bobby knows how to cut just so to prove humanity and not injure, but Sam shudders nonetheless. </p>
<p>Less than a week ago, he'd thought Cas had left him to. The cut is tiny, nothing compared to the great gaping wound left from Ruby's knife. But Sam cleans it thoroughly and wraps it well, lost in the memory. He never wants something like that to happen again.</p>
<p>A little voice tells him that's the life he's condemning Castiel to. Sam ignores it, and tends to his own cut.</p>
<p>“I liked this shirt, Bobby.” He hadn't, not really; barely even noticed what he was pulling on this morning, too lost in his thoughts. But it was a way to get his mind on other things.</p>
<p>“Oh, boo hoo. You've had worse.” All the same, Bobby sets a beer next to Sam, and raises an eyebrow at Gracie.</p>
<p>She's in the process of curling up underneath a table; seemingly unbothered by the 'attack' on her humans. Sam would be annoyed, but she's proven time and time again she knows who the real dangers are. The fact that she's quick to make herself home here only reinforces her wisdom.</p>
<p>Belatedly, Sam remembers Bobby always made a point about dogs belonging outside. For all he broke his own rules and let them in if it was cold, or raining, or worse. He offers his uncle a shy grin, and gets a snort and an eye roll in response. Bobby’s going to let it go without a fuss. Sam’s glad, because he’d fight for Gracie to stay inside. If only for Castiel’s sake.</p>
<p>“So. Angel's. Alright, let's get to it.” Bobby slams book after book on the table, leaning over them with a maniacal look in his eye. “Hope you boys weren't expecting a nap, or something.”</p>
<p>“No, we want to get this over with as quickly as possible.” Castiel's looking at his open bottle, and not at them or the books. Sam's surprised, having figured Cas would bring up the long drive, and the lack of sleep.</p>
<p>All in all, he's taking to the supernatural well. Too well.</p>
<p>Sam's at a loss for how to help.</p>
<p>“Alright, well,” Bobby cuts through the somber, awkward silence. He never did have time for bullshit. “From what I've found, the only thing that can pull someone out of the pit is an angel. So that Balls or whatever-”</p>
<p>“Balthazar.” Castiel speaks up, still so quiet and lost but at least he's talking, Sam supposes.</p>
<p>“Boy I don't care about his name, all I care about is pulling Sam out of whatever mess he's gotten himself into this time.”</p>
<p>“Bobby-” Sam hates it when Bobby, when Dad or Dean treats him like a little kid. He’s always tried to do his best, it’s not fair. But Bobby won’t listen, isn’t listening, so Sam shoves it to the side. Life isn’t fair, and it’s time Sam got used to it.</p>
<p>“Anyway, Balthazar wasn't lying about that. Not sure I buy that scrawny here's an angel, but.” Bobby shrugs again, and sits down, opening a book to a random page.</p>
<p>Sam knows when he's being dismissed. With a sigh, he hits the books himself. When Castiel takes a little longer to finish his beer, he doesn't say anything.</p>
<p>Neither does Bobby. It's going to be a long, long night of research. Maybe more. Sam hopes not too long, they are on a deadline. Much as he doesn't want to think about it.</p>
<p>Much as he doesn't want this to end.</p>
<p>Castiel quietly takes a book and begins to look through it. Gracie pressing against one side, Sam the other. It's the least he can do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Well worn books and an endless supply of beer makes the first week pass quickly. By the second, Castiel finds himself growing tired. It would help if they knew what they were looking for. His lost grace, yes, but what could it even be?</p>
<p>Then there was the question of if he really wants to find it. Castiel's of two minds about that, which he supposes is appropriate, all things considered.</p>
<p>He loves his family dearly, Jimmy, Claire; and now Sam, to. Even Amelia deserves his affection, his protection.</p>
<p>Sam worries about him being pressured into this, and Castiel can't deny it's been sudden. But he can't just ignore it, either. Even with the promise of Heaven for all his loved ones. Somehow, he just knows it isn't all it's cracked up to be.</p>
<p>Gracie thumps her tail from beside him, as if reading his thoughts. With a chuckle, Castiel reaches down to stroke her ears.</p>
<p>“Of course you're family too, girl.” Breathing deep, he returns to his research. He's always loved reading, always loved gaining knowledge. Before choosing his current... well, former, now; career, Castiel had considered becoming a librarian.</p>
<p>It was his mother who talked him into becoming an accountant. Castiel hadn't been able to argue there was more money in that, and the two of them hadn't talked about the obvious medical expenses he'd have over the course of his life if his mental... issues ever returned.</p>
<p>He wonders if she's in Heaven. If she knows now what he really is. Or, was. If she would even care.</p>
<p>Castiel sighs and puts down his book. He's getting nowhere, and fast running out of time. While he can tell everyone's stressed; Sam and his gruff but loving Uncle, Castiel just... knows.</p>
<p>It's a little infuriating to have all these memories, all these powers, just out of reach. Yet another reason he has to do this. He's hidden his whole life – time to stop running.</p>
<p>“Everything okay, Cas?” Sam looks up from his laptop, biting his lip in worry.</p>
<p>Castiel, for his part, offers Sam a wry smile and shakes his head. No, it's not, but there's nothing Sam can do about it. There's nothing anyone can do about it.</p>
<p>“Why don't you take a walk? Heck, take the dog on a run. I'm getting antsy and I'm sure she can't be much better. Fact, I think I'm going to head into town.” Bobby gets up from the table and grabs his keys. “Won't be back for a couple hours. Bye, boys. Don't have too much fun.”</p>
<p>Sam and Castiel blink at each other as the door shuts and Bobby's truck starts up.</p>
<p>“Did your Uncle just? Does he want us to -” Castiel starts, and Sam laughs.</p>
<p>“I think he did.” Sam bites his lip again. His poor lips are looking raw these days. Castiel wants to kiss the worry from his face, but Sam starts talking again. “All the same... I'm sorry Cas, it's just weird a little too weird for me to have sex here.”</p>
<p>“It's alright. I'm not in the mood, anyway.” It's not a lie. While he accepts what he has to do, accepts his fate, for better or worse. He can't say he's happy about it. “I think I'll take Bobby's suggestion. Come, Gracie.”</p>
<p>He can feel Sam's eyes on his back as he heads through the door, Gracie at his side. He leaves before the now familiar argument can start once more. Castiel doesn't want to hear it again.</p>
<p>He knows he doesn't have to do this. He just doesn't know how to explain it to Sam in a way he'll understand.</p>
<p>The sea of half repaired, broken down cars passes him by as he walks. Gracie far ahead of him, nose to the ground and tail wagging. With a sigh, he turns his gaze to the heavens. For all he's sure the Angels aren't really in the sky.</p>
<p>“I wish you were here, old friend.” Somehow Castiel knows Balthazar won't answer. He may not have his grace anymore, and his mind, his memories; are a jumbled mess. But he knows Balthazar all the same.</p>
<p>It's like... seeing shadows on the wall, and only through a gap between his fingers. Like a dream half remembered, and barely a thought by a lunchtime. Knowledge that isn’t knowledge. It's fucking frustrating is what it is.</p>
<p>What's even worse? Castiel knows, with all of his being, that he chose this.</p>
<p>“I suppose I can be too critical... it got me Sam...” Gracie's too far ahead to even pretend he's not talking to himself. “It got me this life, my family... I guess... I'd do it all again.”</p>
<p>He's talking like he's going to die. In a way, he supposes he is. Taking a deep, deep breath, Castiel sits down on the grass and puts his head in his hands.</p>
<p>He can't think about this. There's a plan to follow.</p>
<p>Step one: find his grace. Step two: become one with it... somehow... . Step three: hope he remembers enough to get down to hell, and save Sam's brother before he can start the apocalypse.</p>
<p>Step four: hope there's enough of him left, that he's human enough to still care... to return to Sam. That one's going to be the hardest.</p>
<p>Castiel shivers even though it isn't cold. The Angels in his dreams, they were always so angry. For all he understood every tenth word, he still understood the intent. The rage, the betrayal. He knows Heaven won't be kind.</p>
<p>But he's so tired of running. Maybe he never should have started. It’s too late, either way.</p>
<p>Lying flat on his back now, Castiel watches the clouds above. He remembers laying like this as a child, Jimmy beside him. Castiel would try to weave stories about them, but Jimmy was always better, seeing pirate ships and pegasi above.</p>
<p>The two of them would go into their own little world. Just for them, and the sky above.</p>
<p>Will Jimmy ever understand why he's choosing to do this? Not that Castiel's told him he's gone. It's better for Jimmy to think he's in another mental funk, another deep sadness drawing him down than tell the truth of it.</p>
<p>If Jimmy didn't think him mad before, he would surely think so now.</p>
<p>And yet it's because of his brother he's doing this. At least in part. If it was Jimmy, down below... Castiel now understands the great sorrow that filled Sam when they first met. Why he was trying to drink himself to death.</p>
<p>He stays there for hours, until the sun dips low in the sky. His phone a heavy weight in his pocket. His brother a simple phone call away. It's a comfort Castiel won't let himself take. No matter how much he wants to.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Time has always been an odd thing for Castiel. He'll get lost in a memory, or a dream. He wonders if it's a side effect of being a former angel. He also wonders; will it get better or worse when he regains his grace?</p>
<p>Will it even matter anymore?</p>
<p>Either way, time is rushing forward in a straight line now. It's mid August, and they're no closer to finding his grace. Sam's given up on the books, and is spending most of the day on his computer, cursing Bobby's internet connection at times.</p>
<p>Castiel's brushing Gracie on the porch when it happens. She doesn't shed that much, never has, but Bobby had grumped about it that morning. Tired of getting nowhere, Castiel decided to take a break and 'handle his mutt'.</p>
<p>The words don't bother him. He can tell Bobby doesn't really mean them. It's taken him awhile, but Castiel knows when his angry words are true, and when they're a shield so no one can tell how much he cares.</p>
<p>That and the man still gave Gracie a few strips of bacon underneath the table when he thought no one was looking. All burnt pieces, lest anyone think he was wasting good meat on a dog of all things.</p>
<p>The man is kind in his own way. Castiel's glad Sam has him. He hopes he always will, even when – but before Castiel can finish that thought, his brush halfway down Gracie's back, loose black fur falling like water down on the porch, the door slams open.</p>
<p>“Cas! Cas, I think I've found it!” Sam looks happy for all of a moment, then pauses, his face falling.</p>
<p>That won't do. Castiel runs the brush over his dog one last time, then sends her off with a pat. Pulling himself to his feet, he crosses over to Sam and leans on his tiptoes to kiss him.</p>
<p>This is good. This is what they've been searching for. It's time for this to end. It’ll be a relief. For all of them.</p>
<p>“What did you find?” Pulling away, Castiel makes himself smile despite the hollowness he feels inside. This is good. He just has to repeat it enough times until he believes his own lie.</p>
<p>“Right, c'mon.”</p>
<p>Taking Castiel's hand, Sam leads him inside. Bobby's sitting at the couch, book in his hands, but glances up when they enter. Shakes his head fondly as Sam pulls Castiel in front of the table where he's got his laptop set up, notes spread all around.</p>
<p>Castiel blinks at the website.</p>
<p>“A ginkgo tree?”</p>
<p>“Not just any ginkgo tree.” Sam pulls up a chair, and sits down next to him. He takes over, pulling up more websites. “So get this - This tree showed up after a meteor shower, over three decades ago. Now, normally, it takes them at least that long to grow. But this tree shot up practically overnight, and it's taller, healthier, even, than any tree in the area. People thought it was a miracle. Or, well, a hoax. And the thing is? I checked the meteor shower against your birth records. July 10th.”</p>
<p>Castiel takes another look at the photo. It's grainy, and black and white. Taken from a newspaper, probably scanned in and saved in jpeg format. But despite the low quality of the image, the blurriness, it calls to him.</p>
<p>It feels like home.</p>
<p>He takes a moment to wonder how his Mother survived his sudden creation, how her body was able to handle twins at the last minute when she'd only been carrying Jimmy before. Breathes in, breathes out; there's no point in questioning the miracle.</p>
<p>Perhaps he'd had just enough grace left. Perhaps his own prayer was answered. Either way, he'd been given a life. It hasn’t been all bad. He won’t regret it. He can’t.</p>
<p>“So this entire time it was only a half hour from my backyard...” Castiel pulls back, closing his eyes. So many thoughts are racing through his head. But he knows what's most important. “When do we leave?”</p>
<p>“Now hold on Son-” Bobby starts, clearly worried. “Do you all even know how to get this grace or whatever back in you?”</p>
<p>It's a fair question. Castiel can only shrug. He shares a look with Sam, who's already closing down his laptop.</p>
<p>“We'll just have to find out when we get there.”</p>
<p>“Well.” Bobby shrugs, getting to his feet himself. “Flying by the seat of our pants has worked so far.”</p>
<p>“Wait – Bobby you can't come.” Sam's voice rises, and Castiel can tell the two of them are going to argue from the way Bobby's face turns dark.</p>
<p>So he speaks up, as much as he doesn't want to.</p>
<p>“Please. This is something I need to do alone. ...Besides, I... take care of Gracie for me? She likes it here. And we don't know if the trees guarded, Sam did kill one of hell's demons. They might know we're coming.”</p>
<p>“All the more reason I should come! You boys need back up!” Bobby sighs, taking his hat off his head to run his hands through his hair. “Ah, hell... alright. I'll hold down the fort. But you'd better call me the minute you've got Dean.”</p>
<p>Bobby tugs his hat back down on his head by the brim, and stomps off to the kitchen, grumbling about idjits the entire time. Sam shares a look with Castiel, and he can tell they're both thinking the same thing.</p>
<p>“That was too easy.” Sam voices it.</p>
<p>“I can still hear you both!”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>They agree to head out the next morning. It takes that long to pack up, having turned Singer Salvage into something of a home base. Their dinner that night feels more like a goodbye than a friendly meal. No one comments on it.</p>
<p>Gracie remains glued to Castiel's side. She never likes it when he leaves her behind, for all he's only done it a few times in her life. He hopes Bobby will take good care of her. And if Castiel sneaks her into the bed with them that night?</p>
<p>No one is the wiser.</p>
<p>For once Castiel would welcome the dreams which plagued him in his youth. It might offer direction, revelation for his future path. But none come, and he sleeps in fits and bursts, arms wrapped tight around Sam.</p>
<p>Light peaks through the blinds, and Castiel gives up all pretense. Sitting up in the bed, he decides to commit this scene to memory. The dichotomy of the house is still so striking, even after being here half a month.</p>
<p>Books and tools spill over into every room, and yet there's an order to them. Mismatched sheets and blankets cover himself and his lover; homey and warm, yet smelling of disuse. The air is thick with the scent of old paper and dust, tinged with lemon and vinegar from a quick cleaning Sam had attempted when they first settled in.</p>
<p>Gracie whines from the foot of the bed. He shushes her with a finger to his lips, and she lays her head down obediently. If unhappily, in the way only a dog can manage. That familiar loyalty and disdain, as if to say she knows he's the human and she'll do what he says, but if she could speak the human tongue she would tell him he's being an idiot, a fool beyond measure.</p>
<p>There he goes, anthropomorphizing his dog again. He thought he'd grown out of that habit.</p>
<p>More likely, Gracie would like to go outside now that he's done sleeping. Normally, he would take her, but... Castiel turns his head to the side.</p>
<p>Sam's sleeping peacefully beside him. His hair splays over his face, his breath causing it to flutter with every exhale. The blankets are bunched up in his grasp, and Castiel smiles, even though it explains why he always wakes up cold in the middle of the night.</p>
<p>This might... no, probably is the last time he'll share a bed with Sam. Castiel has always prided himself in his realism. In his pragmatism, always arguing against his twin's optimism. His faith in the world.</p>
<p>Castiel's phone buzzes from the side of the bed. Reaching out, he brings it close and licks his lips, seeing Jimmy's name come up.</p>
<p>He should reply. He should call, even. But as he stares at the words, his eyes gloss over, and all Castiel can do is press the power button. He won't be needing a phone, not anymore. Setting it to the side, he pulls himself to his feet.</p>
<p>Sam lets out a soft sound beside him, and Castiel turns to tuck the blankets back around him. Running his hands over Sam's hair, Castiel drops a kiss to his forehead.</p>
<p>“Sweet dreams, my love.” As he pulls away, a wry smile crosses his lips. He knows he's a hair’s breadth from crying. But he refuses. There's no time, and he won't have this last day tainted by his own foolish wants.</p>
<p>Whistling softly as he leaves the room, Gracie beside him, Castiel decides to go on one final walk with his faithful companion.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Leaving is no easier, despite having already said his goodbyes. Gracie stands on the porch, staring at him almost accusingly as they load up the Impala. She's a good girl, and doesn't try to follow. But Castiel can tell she's not happy about it.</p>
<p>As Sam talks to Bobby, promising yet again to keep the older man in the loop, Castiel crouches down next to her. He runs his hands over her fur; memorizing the feel. She smells of dried mud, but behind that is her own scent which he's always found comforting, despite bathing her frequently so others don't complain.</p>
<p>“Be good.” Checking to see that neither of the others are looking, Castiel presses his lips against her ruff.</p>
<p>When Jimmy showed up with her one day six years ago, a tiny black wriggling blob that fit in his palms, Castiel had frowned, and sighed in exasperation. He hadn't wanted a dog, hadn't wanted someone else to look after when he struggled at taking care of himself.</p>
<p>What a fool he'd been. Part of him is chastising himself, remembering all the manuals and dog books he'd read to prepare for a lifetime with her. All of them said not to make a big deal over leaving... but he can't help it.</p>
<p>Maybe he's stalling. No, Castiel knows he is. Forcing himself to grin, to push down all fear and sorrow, all the trepidation that fills his every inch.</p>
<p>“You're a good girl.” He stands up, and gives her one final pat on the head. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr Singer.”</p>
<p>“Shit, son, call me Bobby. And I should be thanking you, if you two pull this off.” Bobby grumbles, clearly struggling with something, before he steps forward.</p>
<p>Castiel supposes he's about to offer a handshake, so he holds up his hand, when he's pulled into Bobby's arms and given a quick pat on the back. It's over before it really begins, and Bobby moves to do the same to Sam.</p>
<p>“Now get, the both of ya. Don't worry about your dog. She's in good hands with me. And shit, both of you stop looking like you're marching to your deaths. You'll be alright.”</p>
<p>Bobby calls for Gracie as he turns to go inside. She whines once at them both, but follows, ever obedient.</p>
<p>He can tell Bobby doesn't quite believe what he said. But he's grateful all the same. Turning to give Sam a real smile, he laughs at the flabbergasted look on his boyfriend's face.</p>
<p>“Sorry, it's just... Bobby usually takes a while to warm up to people. And he's never been a hugger.” Sam blinks, running a hand through his hair.</p>
<p>“I'll consider myself honored, then.” Castiel feels lighter than he has in weeks. He doubts Bobby has any level of clairvoyance, doubts things will go as smoothly as he said. But Castiel appreciates the lie. Lies of love are still love, after all.</p>
<p>“You ready?” Sam asks him, hands in his pockets.</p>
<p>“Somehow I think I should be asking you that.” All the same, Castiel settles his coat over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the car. He slips into the passenger's seat like he's going home, and he supposes in many ways, he is.</p>
<p>Sam stays on the porch, watching him for a few precious seconds before following after.</p>
<p>There's no spoken words as they look at each other. Sam's eyes say I love you, I don't want to lose you, I need my brother but I need you too. Castiel isn't sure what his own gaze says. He hopes it conveys the depth of his emotions.</p>
<p>He'll never know for certain. Sam turns the key, and they're off.</p>
<p>It's a little over eight hours to Normal, Illinois. They'll stop a few times for gas and food, but this is getting finished tonight. One way or another.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The day passes by faster than either of them would like. They talk at times, about everything and nothing. Simple things, safe things; the time they're making, the weather. Harder things; how Castiel needs to stay behind Sam when they get to the tree, get to his grace.</p>
<p>They can't count on Balthazar to save him again, and while Castiel can sense a warrior, a soldier, deep within himself... it's buried further than he wants to admit. The shit show with Ruby and the knife, how quickly and easily she'd overpowered him despite how natural the blade felt in his hand... that can't happen again.</p>
<p>So he'll swallow his pride. Follow Sam's lead. Let Sam keep him safe. Soon enough, the tables will be turned.</p>
<p>“You okay, Cas?”</p>
<p>Words catch in his throat, burning coal in his lungs. He nods at first, then pauses. Shaking his head, he finds himself smiling back as Sam lets out a dry laugh.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Me neither...”</p>
<p>Lunch is a simple affair; gas station sandwiches and juice bottles as they ride off after filling up the tank. Only five hours remain to their destination. They should get there just after dinner, though Castiel knows neither of them will feel like eating.</p>
<p>The sandwich is tacky in his mouth. The juice has no taste.</p>
<p>Eventually they grow quiet. Sam staring straight ahead, his head bobbing along to a song on the radio. Castiel leans against the window, and watches him through half lidded eyes as he makes a fool of himself.</p>
<p>God, he loves this man.</p>
<p>Somewhere around four Castiel drifts off. It's a familiar, dreamless sleep. He's woken by Sam stopping the car. They're at another gas station, and a nearby sign alerts Castiel to their position. He's rarely been out of Illinois, these past two weeks filled with more travel than he's ever seen.</p>
<p>That he can remember, at least. He wonders how it will compare to an angels experience. To his lost past. He supposes it doesn't matter.</p>
<p>For all he's rarely out of his hometown, he recognizes the area. They're a half hour out.</p>
<p>Sam climbs back into the driver's seat, the door slamming behind him. Castiel's breath is caught in his throat. A desperate plea wells up inside his breast, catches in his lungs.</p>
<p>It's selfish. It's foolish. He knows he should ignore it.</p>
<p>All the same, Castiel reaches out and catches Sam's shoulder before he can start the car again. Sam blinks at him.</p>
<p>“What's up, Cas?” Sam looks tired, more than tired. He should look excited, look relieved; his brother's damned soul is so close to their grasp. But he looks like he wants to turn back.</p>
<p>Maybe Castiel's not the only one who's not ready to make this final step. At least, not yet. Not tonight.</p>
<p>“I...” The words which were so close at hand desert him. Such traitorous, such cowardly words. Castiel closes his eyes, forces himself to breath. Runs his tongue along his teeth, slips it out from between his lips to wet them. “I – I still want to do this.”</p>
<p>Is he trying to convince Sam, or himself?</p>
<p>“Cas...”</p>
<p>“But.” Opening them once more, Castiel catches Sam's gaze. “...it'll be dark if we go tonight. They'll be expecting us. ...What if... what if we find a hotel, get a room for the night. Leave at dawn.”</p>
<p>Will it make it easier, or harder, to have one final night?</p>
<p>Sam doesn't call him on it either way. Only offers him a sad little smile before nodding. Turning the key in the ignition, he heads back on to the road. Away from Normal, Illinois, and back towards lodging.</p>
<p>Castiel has an absent thought about it being easier to just keep going, and stay the night in his home in Pontiac. He supposes it's the accountant in him, always mindful of money.</p>
<p>He doesn’t voice it. He’s not sure either of them could leave that little house if they were to return. Even as the world burned around them.</p>
<p>The minutes stretch to hours as Sam parks, as he gets out and pays for a room. Castiel taps a beat against the dashboard. After eons, Sam returns with a key card, and drives them to their room. His feet feel leaden as he leaves the car.</p>
<p>Their room has two beds. Castiel blinks at Sam, tilting his head with an unspoken question.</p>
<p>“Habit.” Sam runs his hand over the back of his neck. “My brother and I... we always got two beds, so I guess I just did it automatically. Speaking of brothers – have you called Jimmy at all?”</p>
<p>Castiel shakes his head.</p>
<p>“It'd just make this harder. ...and I don't want to talk about Jimmy.” He presses forward, presses Sam against the wall. The taller, stronger man lets him.</p>
<p>Castiel is under no illusions. He isn't suave, he isn't dashing, he's not strong enough to sweep Sam off his feet. Yet, Sam's giving in to him, letting him lead for all they both know Castiel barely knows what he's doing.</p>
<p>They haven't been intimate since that night. Since the world changed for both of them; vessels, angels, and hell. They were only intimate a handful of times before, Sam guiding the way each and every one of them. Castiel learned the beat of Sam's heart, the taste of his skin; learned things about himself as well.</p>
<p>But it was all Sam's doing.</p>
<p>Desperation tinges, taints this moment but he can't bring himself to care. Sam must need this just as much as he. His neck aches as he stretches to his full height, pressing frantic kisses against Sam's lips, opening his mouth and sneaking his tongue inside.</p>
<p>Sam kisses back, just as needy, tasting of fruit and something distinctly sweet. After a moment, Castiel places it as a coffee, Sam's familiar latte. He pulls back, breaths coming out in pants. Sam's hair surrounds him as he leans down, chasing Castiel's mouth.</p>
<p>They make their way to the bed slowly, shedding clothing as they go. Sam's brown jacket joins Castiel's long black coat, his flannel tossed on top of Castiel's blue button up. Their pants are harder, neither of them wanting to take their hands off each other long enough to mess with the buttons or zippers.</p>
<p>Finally, Castiel gives in to necessity and sits on the edge of the bed. He's so hard he could pound nails, but he doesn't want this to be over too soon. He wants to cherish this, cherish Sam while he's still human enough to do so.</p>
<p>A faint hope fills him. If he was a bad enough angel to want to destroy himself; maybe there will be enough left of his humanity he'll still know love. He can't imagine not knowing Sam. But Castiel can't live on hope.</p>
<p>Sam's jeans are off, his cock peeking out of the side of his boxers. He's digging in their bags, and Castiel almost asks why when he laughs. Of course, lube. Sam's holding a bottle of it in his hand, and he turns to offer Castiel a sheepish look.</p>
<p>“So... uh, do you want me to top, or-”</p>
<p>“Let me. I want to feel you.” Castiel closes his eyes, breathes deep. Opens them again, holding Sam's gaze. “I need to feel you.”</p>
<p>Sam doesn't argue, and he makes his way over to Castiel. They kiss as Sam tosses the bottle onto the bed, Sam's long legs working to rid himself of his undergarment. Castiel wishes he could be so lucky, then all thoughts leave him as Sam squeezes him through his pants.</p>
<p>Those talented hands make quick work of his buttons, and wrap around his hard member, stroking it through his briefs. Castiel pants, has to bite his lip to keep from coming right then and there. There's stars behind his eyelids already, and he reaches up to grip Sam's shoulders.</p>
<p>“Wait – wait-”</p>
<p>Sam stops, scooting away. He gives Castiel a precious minute to breathe, to gather himself, before tugging Castiel's pants down, his briefs following suit..</p>
<p>They kiss, rutting up against each other, precum slicking the way. Castiel finds himself pressed down into the bed, and laughs. Sam doesn't fight him as he rolls them over; in fact Castiel has to admit he helps roll them. A lifetime of punching numbers doesn’t compare to fighting monsters, and Castiel appreciates the muscles earned from pain.</p>
<p>Castiel sits up, and stares down at Sam. He drinks in the delicious sight of his lover laying naked and hard before him. His skin is flushing a beautiful red, and his eyes are half lidded. His cock looks as hard as Castiel's feels.</p>
<p>“Sam? I love you.” He leans down to kiss him, and groans as Sam tugs at his hair. His hands blindly pat the bed, eventually finding their quarry.</p>
<p>The bottle of lube pops open beneath his fingers, and he spreads a generous amount on his fingers. It's torture to pull back, to stop kissing, but he wants to do this right. He coats himself first, shivering and groaning as he does so.</p>
<p>Sam decides to help, or maybe torture Castiel even more. He spreads his own legs and gives Castiel a cocky grin. Castiel has to laugh at it all, but eases his fingers down low, slips them into unresisting heat.</p>
<p>“Cas... please...” Sam moans, head tossing back and eyes closing.</p>
<p>It doesn't take long for Sam to open for him, warm around his digits. With some searching, he finds that familiar spongy bump, and presses down. Sam's eyes fly open as he arches his back, thrusting into empty air.</p>
<p>Castiel takes pity on his lover. He eases his fingers out carefully, for all he's tempted to spend hours fingering Sam open. Sam has to lean up, has to twist himself in half, but he meets Castiel's lips as Castiel slides inside him.</p>
<p>He can't keep himself from closing his eyes, from groaning in bliss. They've done this once or twice, from both positions, but there's something about being inside Sam he'll always cherish. Castiel couldn't break him if he tried, he knows this.</p>
<p>But he always finds himself going slow at first. Finds himself categorizing the way Sam's walls clench around him, the way Sam's cock slides against his stomach. The sinful sounds as skin meets skin, and the sensations as he thrust harder and harder.</p>
<p>Sam's not a quiet lover. He's not one to lay back and let Castiel do all the work, either. So as Castiel moves his hips, Sam's legs cross tight around his back, tight as his hole around Castiel's cock.</p>
<p>His fingers run up and down Castiel's skin, they catch on his shoulders and squeeze at his muscles. There will be bruises tomorrow, and Castiel finds himself looking forward to the dawn.</p>
<p>He feels his balls drawing tight, feels himself growing closer and closer. Somehow he manages to chase it back, to focus on Sam. His hand snakes down, and he takes Sam's cock in his palm, savors the sound of Sam's screams as he pumps him in time with his thrusts.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, he's found the edge. He's falling over, and as much as he'd like to say they climax at the same time, he knows it's him who's cumming first.</p>
<p>That's alright. Sam's so tight around him, so hard in his hand, it's easy for Castiel to bring him off to.</p>
<p>He spills deep, deep inside his lover, stars dancing behind his eyes. Sweat and lube and cum all mix; and while it's gross, it's wonderful too.</p>
<p>Castiel almost wishes it wasn't over, but as he lays down beside Sam, as Sam turns to look at him, that fucked stupid look in his eyes; Castiel commits it to memory.</p>
<p>He wraps his arms around Sam, Sam tangles their legs together. They kiss once more, for all they should be tired, they're both filled with a desperation that won't leave them for hours yet.</p>
<p>Castiel finds his cock twitching, for all he knows it'll be awhile before they can manage a round two. He's up to the challenge. So is Sam.</p>
<p>It's easy to pretend there's no tomorrow. In some respects, there isn't. There's only right now, this bed, with the two of them. Damn the rest of the world.</p>
<p>Castiel is in love, and is loved in return. He has tonight, he has the early hours of the morning. And he's going to enjoy them. To the absolute fullest.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The rest of the night passes in bliss; Castiel memorizing every inch of his lover's body with the tips of his fingers and tongue. They barely part to shower, before tangling back together in the spare bed, skin on skin wrapping up in the blankets.</p>
<p>When Castiel dreams that night, they are for once pleasant. Love without guilt; for Sam, for his family. For the world he's always loved so very, very much.</p>
<p>The fear is gone when he wakes. In its place is determination, and Castiel takes a deep breath as he eases himself free of Sam's hold. He dresses with a care to be quiet, and goes outside to watch the rising sun.</p>
<p>So. This is it. Whatever happens, this is his last sunrise as a human.</p>
<p>Castiel isn't surprised when Sam's arms wrap around him from behind, and Sam rests his chin on top of his head. They stay there, saying nothing, only watching as the sky brightens.</p>
<p>Eventually, after what feels like hours but is probably only ten minutes, Castiel pulls away.</p>
<p>“Breakfast?” Sam asks, but nods when Castiel shakes his head. “Yeah, I'm not feeling it either. I'll go return the keys, see you in the car.”</p>
<p>He blinks as Sam tosses him the keys to the Impala. He's driven it all of once. Sam seemed ashamed of even that much, for all he'd been dangerous behind the wheel. To be offered this touches him in a way he can't describe.</p>
<p>Turning to let himself in the drivers side, he adjusts the seat and refuses to think of this as a parting gift. It won't be. It can't be.</p>
<p>Sam says nothing as he climbs into the passenger seat, only smiles. He looks at peace, at home. There's a faint worry to his eyes, but rest has helped them both. As has the night spent reconnecting.</p>
<p>The impala feels alive beneath his hands, and seems to lead him, lead both of them to his grace. It's fanciful, they've been following a map this whole time; but the closer they get to the park where the ginkgo is, the warmer he feels.</p>
<p>It's like a song, low and high at the same type. Words he can almost make out, whispering to him. He barely registers parking, and he's sure Sam says something as he gets out of the car, but it can't be important. His legs tremble as he steps onto the pavement, gaining confidence as the song leads him to the sidewalk.</p>
<p>There are trees, dotted about here and there, and dew covers the grass like a blanket. The drops soak into his shoes, into his socks, but Castiel cares not. The song is louder now, warm, and he comes to a stop in front of a copse of trees.</p>
<p>Oak and dogwood, a lone pine. But most precious, most eye catching, is the ginkgo. It stands tall, three times taller than it should. It's leaves are green and welcoming, the tips just beginning to turn the softest of yellows.</p>
<p><i>There you are</i> it seems to say to him, or maybe he says to it. Castiel's not sure anymore, and he holds out his hand, ready to place it on top of the bark.</p>
<p>Only to have it caught by Sam, to be pulled back into his lover's arms. Sam's saying something, and Castiel has to fight to hear it. The song is so loud, and it's so easy to listen to it. But...</p>
<p>He shakes his head. Looks Sam in the eyes. Forces himself to focus.</p>
<p>“Cas?” Sam's looking at him, his hands on Castiel's shoulders, enveloping him and filling him with devotion. “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Castiel smiles back. Leaning up, he kisses Sam deeply, and nods. No more stalling.</p>
<p>“I'm fine. It'll be okay, Sam.” He laughs, shaking his head. “I was a fool to doubt it...” Part of him wonders why there's no guard, why no ones trying to stop them. But he knows.</p>
<p>They don't think he can do it. They don't think they can do it. The two of them versus the entire world, versus fate? Of course they're set up to fail!</p>
<p>But Castiel knows better. His old friend, his former self is just beside them. It's been in this park for a long, long time. Has been played under, prayed under; has bared witness to countless declarations of love.</p>
<p>So here's one more.</p>
<p>“Sam? Don't worry. I love you, and I always will.” Castiel shrugs off Sam's hands, reaches up to tuck his bangs behind his ears. Sam looks so worried, and a touch scared. He can't blame him, nor can he explain. “Shut your eyes, Sam. I won't be gone long.”</p>
<p>He turns, and places his hand on the tree. White light shines out, blinding him, then warmth – grace fills him. It flows down his mouth and settles in his throat, curls outward to his heart and fingers. Every part of him that was Castiel Novak is still there, just more; and Castiel the angel washes over him too.</p>
<p>Castiel isn't lost, he's never been lost. They are not two people; they are one. He's watched creation, he's watched cartoons. He remembers the fish when it first left its pool, and remembers the way his human mother rocked him to sleep at night.</p>
<p>He has never known his father's voice, never known his love. That doesn’t matter. He has always known his human father's voice, as he laughed and sang terrible little songs. Proof of love without words.</p>
<p>Castiel can hear those songs, they’re coming from Heaven. His wings arc out, all six of them, for all he's sure he's never had that many before.</p>
<p>Maybe it's God's gift to him, maybe he wants this to stop before it starts just as much. Castiel smiles, every one of his many, many eyes curling up as well as his human lips. He is blood and flesh, he is light and song.</p>
<p>A warrior, through and through. But what good is a warrior if he doesn't have something to fight for? To protect, to love. He never had that before, but now it’s all Castiel has. It’s all he needs.</p>
<p>His wings should ache from disuse, but all he feels is joy as he takes flight. Sam is below him, pulling his arm away from his face.</p>
<p>Part of Castiel breaks, seeing the look of loss, but he'll be back before Sam can miss him much. He has work to do. A declaration to be made.</p>
<p>But first, a warning.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>There's joy in flight like no other. The world from on high beautiful, the reminder of why he was created, and what he's sworn to always protect. He flies from continent to continent, country to country in an instant, and takes it all in.</p>
<p>Humans. His father's creations; their souls shining so brightly from within their bodies. Many are bad, as bad as the demons they will become in hell, but the beauty of choice is always there. Free Will, what he wasn't meant to have and yet grasped within his palms time and time again before finally leaving and learning it for himself.</p>
<p>Yes, there are wicked, evil humans. But even more are good; for all they are selfish, petty and filled with woe. They still reach out, try to right their wrongs and share their good fortune. More so when they have little to themselves.</p>
<p>He can hear his angelic siblings now, and he laughs. They think they can stop him? They think he's a fool?</p>
<p>Very well then, he's a fool. Fools can accomplish more than people realize. Castiel’s the proof.</p>
<p>He takes flight once more. Castiel stops outside an old salvage yard, filled with broken down vehicles. He can see now the love pouring over them; the way Bobby refuses to give up on a few, and returns to them in his quiet moments, determined to make them run once more.</p>
<p>But that's not why he's here. He makes himself visible, and kneels down to wrap his arms and every single wing around Gracie, around his dog. Her mind is simpler than a humans, she doesn't understand, but she's so happy to see him.</p>
<p>She always has been, and Castiel pours some of his grace over her, easing her pains and hiding her from angelic sight as best he can. He taps his fingers to her nose, mouths for her to be good, and takes off once more.</p>
<p>His brother's home looks different from above, and Castiel sighs. He is human no longer, but he was for over three decades, and that experience will always be with him. The good and the bad, and he understands now why he was drawn to Jimmy.</p>
<p>His bloodline goes back, far back, and Jimmy would have been a perfect vessel for himself as he is now. It's only by some miracle, by the last dregs of his grace before it fell down to the park and became a silent guardian; that he was able to copy Jimmy's form, and not overtake him in the womb.</p>
<p>He thanks his father. Though he knows he isn't listening. It’s alright, for once. Castiel doesn’t need him, not anymore.</p>
<p>Even more perfect than Jimmy, would have been Claire. Castiel feels fine in a male form, but Jimmy would have been the first time he'd ever taken one. He shakes his head as he sets down on the ground, tucks his wings back inside and makes himself invisible.</p>
<p>His angel blade should be long gone, and yet it's in his hands, if perhaps longer than before. More solid, more firm; and it cuts just as easy. Sigils on the walls, painted in his own blood hide his family. No angel will ever take them, not now or ever.</p>
<p>He steps inside, and lays his hands on first his niece, wincing as she cries out in her sleep. But the marks on her ribs will keep her safe. Amelia is next, then Jimmy.</p>
<p>Jimmy, who sits up in bed as the last mark is etched in his bones.</p>
<p>“Castiel?” Jimmy's eyes are wide and blue; no longer a perfect mirror of his own. They're wide open and staring at him, no, staring beyond him. Behind and above; as though – of course.</p>
<p>Castiel lets out his wings, wrapping them around his brother.</p>
<p>“Thank you... thank you, Jimmy.” He presses two fingers to Amelia's brow when she starts to stir. This moment is for him and his human brother alone. “Thank you, so much. ...I owe everything to you, when I would have taken everything <b>from</b> you, once...”</p>
<p>“Cas?” Jimmy's hand reaches up, his fingers curl around a feather, stroking it lightly. “I've been so worried... are you... dead?”</p>
<p>His brother's voice breaks at that, and Castiel breaks too, his arms joining his wings as he holds his brother tight. He shakes his head, and the human tongue isn't enough to convey everything he needs to impart.</p>
<p>So he lets out his true voice, soft as he can so as not to deafen Amelia.</p>
<p><i>I'm sorry. I love you. I'm not dead, and I'll explain everything when I can. I'll be gone for a time, a long time – but I will return for you.</i> Castiel sends him images, links their minds. It would kill a normal human, but Jimmy was always a suitable vessel for him, a strong one. He can take it, he has to.</p>
<p>Or he'll die.</p>
<p>
  <i>Remember this number. Call it. Tell him Castiel sent you, tell him I got my grace back. Tell him – no, listen to him. And Jimmy? No matter what happens, no matter who calls upon you. Do not say yes. Can you promise me that? Promise that you'll remain yourself?</i>
</p>
<p>Jimmy nods, and Castiel pulls back. He can see, can feel how Jimmy is confused down to his very soul. But he believes him, believes <b>in</b> him, and always has.</p>
<p>Warning given, Castiel flutters off. Only one more stop now.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Billions and billions of souls surround him; each in their own version of heaven. Many are old friends; The perfect summer day, where a man flies a kite forevermore. A rainstorm, where a young girl raises her hands to the sky and roars, pretending she is a dragon. The deep blue sea, and the way the fish peered back at the teenager in his goggles.</p>
<p>They have never spoken, but they have never minded Castiel peeking in on their paradise. Never minded sharing their happiest memories.</p>
<p>But that’s not why he's here. That's not what he's come for. Castiel flits from heaven to heaven, gathering more and more attention. Then he comes to a stop near the middle, not quite at the garden, but close enough.</p>
<p>He amplifies his voice, spreads each wing wide. His grace flares around him.</p>
<p>“Hear me: Dean Winchester will be saved, and Lucifer will not be let out of his cage! The world will not end, our father wouldn't want the destruction of humanity! But even more, it doesn't matter what our father would want! He is gone, and has been for a long, long time! It's time for each of us to decide what is important, and I know many of you feel as I do!”</p>
<p>They are listening, some have their angel blades at the ready. But still they listen, listen to the fool Castiel, who always had too much heart. Who’s now powerful beyond his own means, gifted to him by humanity. </p>
<p>“We were put here to protect humans, to shepherd them! Not destroy them, not control them! So join me if you wish, but try and stop me and I will tear you asunder!”</p>
<p>He's gone before they can find him. Message sent, and oh how the voices in his head ring with fury. How dare he, how dare he?! Does he think himself a god?</p>
<p>Castiel smirks as he touches down beside Sam once more. A god? No. Never. He's a protector, a warrior. An Angel.</p>
<p>What they're truly meant to be.</p>
<p>“Did you miss me? I missed you.” Castiel wraps his arms around Sam, and kisses him once more. He takes flight, and sets them down in Stull Cemetery.</p>
<p>“Cas?” Sam's looking around, confused, then it appears to dawn on him. “Here? I knew it was rumored to be haunted, but Dad always steered us away...”</p>
<p>“He was right to.” Castiel can see them, now. Ghosts and demons alike, lost souls wandering about. The gate shines just beyond human vision. “There's a gate to hell. One of many, this one is the least likely to kill you...”</p>
<p>“The least likely, huh? I like those odds.” Sam grins, and pulls away. He tilts his head up, as if he can see Castiel's wings, his true form. Perhaps he can, but Castiel isn't sure. It doesn't matter.</p>
<p>Castiel loves Sam either way. His soul is beautiful, despite, or maybe because of the scars left by demon blood. He can see the hope that fills Sam, the faith and love. Not just for Castiel, but for his brother, for the people he saves.</p>
<p>Castiel finds himself grinning back.</p>
<p>“Let's go save your brother.”</p>
<p>There's another rush of wings before Sam can answer, and Castiel pulls him behind himself, drawing his blade. He can sense Sam getting ready to fight, his soul flaring up in sync with Castiel's grace.</p>
<p>A small group of angels stand before them. Some look lost, others confused. There's only one familiar face.</p>
<p>“I hope you're not planning to go it alone, Cassie.” Balthazar steps out from the middle of the group, holding a staff in one hand, a chunk of salt in the other. “You might be more powerful than me now, more powerful than all but an archangel – but you're still only one angel. You need us.”</p>
<p>“And do I have you?” Castiel eases his stance, one hand finding Sam's to squeeze. “Do I have... all of you?”</p>
<p>He starts to recognize them, one by one. Rachel, in a tall female form; the soul of her vessel fluttering in fear and excitement, ready to help. Hannah, who still looks unsure, but willing to follow, obviously shaken by his declaration but knowing it to be true.</p>
<p>Samandriel grins up at him, and his vessel's soul seems to grin as well. Castiel doubts the young, barely teenage boy knows what he's gotten himself into. He'll talk to Samandriel about releasing him, when he can. Not that Castiel has any space to judge... if he hadn't fallen, he'd be no better.</p>
<p>No, he knows he'd be worse. Jimmy and Claire would have meant nothing to him, just means to an end. Humans serving their purpose to serve heavens.</p>
<p>It is a surprise to see Benjamin here. It is not a surprise to see his vessel's soul still so well protected, nestled inside Benjamin's grace. Then again, Benjamin has always valued that human, if no others. Castiel's grateful for the help either way.</p>
<p>Each of them holds another weapon, another relic from biblical times. In addition to their angel blades. Castiel shakes his head.</p>
<p>“Did you raid the entire armory, old friend?”</p>
<p>“What can I say? I have my uses.” Balthazar shrugs, and Castiel can see he wasn't lying. The soul of his vessel is very much along for the ride, ready for adventure. “And if we're going to be taking on Heaven, I'd rather be armed.”</p>
<p>“Taking on Heaven?!” Sam speaks up from behind him.</p>
<p>The angels study him, as he studies the angels. Castiel can tell they aren't impressed, and he bites back a sigh. There's no time for the angry words he wants to let out. Not yet. But it will come – Castiel won't have them degrading Sam. Won't have them degrading any human, not anymore.</p>
<p>“Well, after Cassie's little temper tantrum, I'm sure they'll be after us next. Especially if we pull this off.” Balthazar shrugs, and rests the staff against his shoulder. “Six angels and a human, diving into hell for one soul to stop the apocalypse. Sounds like fun.”</p>
<p>“That is true.” Castiel nods, and looks each of them in turn. Saving Sam for last, he takes one of his hands in both of his own, and tries to impress upon him the gravity of the situation. “The circumstances of the apocalypse have been put into place eons ago. Balthazar’s idea on how to stop it from ever starting again, once we rescue your brother… it’ll work. But Heaven's army is vast, and their wrath will be great.”</p>
<p>“...Bring it on, then.” Sam grins, and places his hand over Castiel's. “I've been fighting against hell my entire life. What's a little holy fury?”</p>
<p>“Splendid. Once upon a time, looking at us would bring humanity to their knees, now they don't fear us at all.” Balthazar sighs, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“As it should be.” Castiel turns toward the gate, his blade raising high. “Now, no more stalling. This is just the first step on a long, long journey. I am grateful to you all. I love you all.”</p>
<p>If he winks at Sam during that last bit, then that's between him and Sam. There are no more words. No more looks between them. Castiel will lead, and Sam will follow. Sam, like all humans, has led him in the past. Has shown him why life is so precious.</p>
<p>It's time for Castiel to return the favor. He's glad to.</p>
<p>The gate opens.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>Classic rock plays on the radio, and Sam finds himself leaning back in his seat. The road rumbles below him as he hums along to Kansas, his eyes closed and his head bobbing. There's a flick of a knob, and Sam opens his eyes to see his brother taking out the tape and putting in another.</p><p>Metallica fills the car instead, and Sam stifles a laugh. Dean gives him a look from his place in the driver's seat, brows arching up.</p><p>“You're happy today.” Dean says after a while.</p><p>“Why wouldn't I be?” Looking out the window, Sam grins at the falling snow. “It's a beautiful day, I've got my brother back, the world's safe, everything’s business as usual. Oh, and getting to take down a vampire nest always cheers me up.”</p><p>“...Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Dean rolls his eyes, and turns back towards the road.</p><p>“I don't know Dean. You have to admit, it's all been pretty anticlimactic.”</p><p>“Anticlimactic? Seriously?” Dean turns to him again, mouth hanging open for a solid thirty seconds before he begins his rant. “The past few months haven't been a cakewalk, Sam. Between being busted out of hell, waking up in a pine box six feet below ground-”</p><p>“Hey.” Sam tries to ease him, his tone low and comforting. There's no point in getting Dean riled up. He's been gruffer, since returning from hell. Sam gets it, he really, really does. But he's trying to remind Dean that life is worth living, despite the torture and the pain. “I was there to pull you out.”</p><p>“Yeah, with a dead body in your arms.” Dean grumbles, and curses when he hits a pothole. “Damn it! I might have to get out the chains from the trunk.”</p><p>“I'll put them on when we stop for the night. And you know, it hurts Cas's feelings when you refer to him like that. He wasn't dead, his vessel was just empty. Rebuilding you from the ground up took time.”</p><p>“Oh I'm so grateful, Sam, really.” Sam can't see him rolling his eyes, but he can tell Dean's doing it with gusto. “Really appreciate the hand print on my shoulder. Fuckin' burns. I thought he was your holy piece of ass?”</p><p>Sam goes quiet at that, bites back an argument. So things aren't perfect. He has his brother back. They stopped the world from ending. He can take a little sass. Over and over, Sam tells himself this, until he believes it, a breath in and a breath out at a time.</p><p>“...Sorry, Sammy. I know he makes you happy.” Deans sighs, and Sam forgives him without being asked. “It's just... been a lot.”</p><p>“I know. But, Dean, if you'd give Cas a chance, you might end up liking the guy.” Privately, Sam thinks the two of them might end up best friends. They both love him, after all, and Dean has enjoyed trying to 'corrupt' the angel, ever since it sunk in that Sam isn't leaving him, no matter how much they both want things to go back to 'normal'.</p><p>Normal kind of fell by the wayside a long, long time ago. Angels, Demons; Aborted Apocalypses will do that. At least Dean hadn't taken the news about being a true vessel any better than Sam had.</p><p>“Yeah, well, he's useful, I'll give you that.”</p><p>Sam grins as he hears a familiar rush of wings.</p><p>“I'm always glad to be of service. Hello Sam, Dean.” Castiel pokes his head up from the backseat, which was empty moments before.</p><p>The car swerves onto the edge of the road for a moment until Dean rights it, a colorful litany of curses leaving his mouth. Cas cocks his head to one side, frowning at his brother until the rant is over.</p><p>“I... don't think that is anatomically possible... though I suppose, if you-”</p><p>“Anatomically possible, what are you, a dictionary?” Dean grumbles even more, and he turns at the next exit. “We are so stopping for the night, my heart can't take this – going to end up right back in hell at this rate-”</p><p>“You will not go to hell when you die. There is a place waiting for you in heaven, for both of you.” Castiel turns towards Sam, clearly worried. “But you both knew that...”</p><p>“Speaking of Heaven-” Sam cuts in, not wanting to recall their last trip there. He's still not sure what to think of the afterlife, but at least Cas will be able to visit him, and maybe Ash will have found a solution by the time he gets there for real. “What news do you have?”</p><p>“The wards will hold. Neither Michael nor Raphael is getting out, anytime soon.” Castiel closes his eyes, and Sam can tell he's grieving the loss of his brothers.</p><p>The cage in Heaven had been Castiel's idea: with the first seal never broken, and Lilith dead shortly after Dean's rescue from hell, it never will be. Sam knows Cas had hoped the angels would listen to reason, but revenge had been the only thing on their minds.</p><p>Now that Michael and Raphael are locked away, for good, an echo of their fallen brother down below; things have eased off.</p><p>“And how's Gabriel taking leadership?” Sam reaches back to squeeze Castiel's shoulder. He'd like to kiss him, but he doesn't want to deal with Dean's gagging right now. Fake as it might be.</p><p>“I still can't believe he's a freakin' Archangel.” Dean pulls into the parking lot, and unbuckles his seat. “I still can't freakin' believe we put him in charge of heaven. Hell, I still can't freakin' believe he's staying.”</p><p>“Anna guides him, as does Hannah, and many others.” Castiel nods, agreeing with Dean to a point. “Things are... certainly different, than before. But not bad, and we are free to do what we wish. Within reason.”</p><p>“But not you, huh? I'd think you know more about free will than even him. Anna was nice and all, but I’d rather you be ‘guiding’ him. So what gives?” Dean glances back at Castiel, hands digging in his pants for his wallet.</p><p>“As Balthazar puts it, I still have a stick up my ass the size of a tree.”</p><p>Dean chuckles, and Sam has to join in at the put out look on Cas's face. Really, Cas hasn't changed much since getting his grace back. Sam knows Castiel thinks of it as losing his humanity, but Cas is the most human angel Sam knows.</p><p>And he knows plenty, these days. Not even Anna, who joined their side during the fight against Heaven, and was human for about as long as Cas was, comes close. Hmm, Anna, that's an idea.</p><p>“So all's well that ends well, huh?” Dean's voice jolts Sam out of his thoughts. “Heaven's safe and under Gabriels rule, and Hell's...”</p><p>“Bela, Queen of Hell, has a nice ring to it.” Sam shakes his head. He never liked Bela, not really, but learning the terms of her deal while rescuing Dean from hell... he understands her better now. Still, it had been too late to save her. “She'll keep us on our toes, but she won't end the world. The world has money and power. Bela’s a big fan of both of those things.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I'm going to go pay for a room. I'll toss you the keys then I want you out of my baby, Sammy. You too, feather-butt. I've got a date with a bottle of jack and as many pretty women as I can find.”</p><p>With that, Dean leaves the car. Sam shakes his head but does the same, shivering in the December afternoon. Alright, so the snow is prettier when he isn't out in it.</p><p>Sam pauses as Castiel joins him, and he turns to ask a question, but it's forgotten as Cas takes off his coat and wraps it around Sam's shoulders. It doesn't quite fit, but Sam's warmed all the same. He offers Cas a smile that's returned. Next thing he knows, he's leaning down and his lips are pressing against his boyfriends.</p><p>The bliss doesn't last long, Dean returns with the keys and throws them at Sam, gagging all the while. But Sam can see the pleased little look on Dean's face as he drives away. His brother’s happy for him, he's just being Dean.</p><p>Briefly, Sam considers finding someone for Dean. Maybe they can see how Cassie Robinson is doing, or perhaps visit Lisa. At this point, Sam's willing to deal with Dean hooking up with Anna again, so long as his brother's happy too.</p><p>Castiel's hand wrapping around his own takes Sam out of his thoughts. There's a rush of wings, and they're inside the room.</p><p>“I do have legs, you know.” Still, Sam has to laugh. Castiel enjoys showing off for him, and happy is one of Sam’s favorite looks on Cas.</p><p>“I know. They're very long and... muscular.”</p><p>Sam laughs even more, shaking his head all the while. He knows where Castiel wants this to go, and he wants that too, but not yet. Turning to sit on the bed, he pats the blanket beside him. Cas looks put out for all of a minute before joining him.</p><p>Sam's not worried. They have all night. Wrapping one arm around his boyfriends, he lets out a contented little sigh as Castiel leans into his chest, eyes closing.</p><p>“Hey Cas? Got a question for you.”</p><p>“Mmm?”</p><p>“I was thinking... well, really, Bobby and I have been talking... the world is finally safe, safe as it'll ever be... and he's closed out all his cases for awhile, it won't take us long to get down to Sioux Falls... It's December... so...” Sam tries to explain without explaining. He can tell Cas isn't following, so he bites the bullet and comes out with it. “We're not big on Christmas, don't be surprised if Dean gives you porn – but I'd really like it if you'd join us at the Salvage Yard.”</p><p>“You do know that isn't the birth of the son. It was only placed there to discourage Pagan Holidays-” Cas starts, and much as Sam loves listening to him go on about human fallacies, he sees something in Castiel's eyes that he doesn't like.</p><p>Regret, deep regret. Sadness, too. Sam considers for a moment, raising two of his fingers to Castiel's lips to silence him.</p><p>“What's the real reason, Cas?” Sam holds his gaze for a minute, willing Cas to trust him. They've always been there for each other, after all.</p><p>“I... my family... my human family...”</p><p>Oh. <b>Oh</b>. Of course.</p><p>“So invite them.” Sam grins, pulling back. “There's more than enough room. Bobby'll bitch, but we'll bring a couple cases of beer, and I'm sure Gracie will be happy to see Claire.”</p><p>“She... very much would. Although I can't picture Amelia at the Salvage Yard...”</p><p>“We've been over this Cas. Saving them from Demons and Angels has put you in her good books.”</p><p>“They were only in their sights because of me in the first place-” Cas starts that old familiar argument, but Sam won't hear it. Not again.</p><p>He leans down, and shushes Castiel with a kiss. Pulling back, he rests his chin on top of Castiel's head. Cups his hand on the other's neck, and closes his eyes.</p><p>“Hey. Enough of that. You've made it right. And I wouldn't have it any other way... I'm so, so grateful I met you, Cas. I love you, you know that?” Sam pulls away to look in Cas's eyes.</p><p>Castiel looks back, and softly nods. Sam grins, and takes off the ill fitting coat to put it back on his angel. It looks better on him, anyway.</p><p>“I love you too, Sam. ...And I'll call them. I'm... I'd really like that, all of us together.” Castiel pauses a moment, and tilts his head to the side. “Although I must ask Dean to speak to Claire. Since they last met, my brother tells me she's been talking about how 'cool' hunters are. Jimmy wants me to discourage that line of thought, and I must confess I'm at a loss on how to do so.”</p><p>“I'll talk to her, Cas.” Privately, Sam doubts anyone can convince Claire otherwise when she's got an idea in her head. But he can at least impress upon her the importance of family, of not going it alone.</p><p>It's the only thing that saved him, after all. The only thing that saved any of them.</p><p>Sam pulls Castiel close, and closes his eyes once more as he breathes in his lovers scent. It's tinged with ozone these days, but still so completely him. Safety, love; Cas. Angel or Human, Sam loves him either way, and he knows Castiel feels the same.</p><p>Maybe Sam can't see Cas's wings, but he swears he feels them as they wrap around him. Cas's arms join a moment later, and they're kissing. It's a fine way to spend a night in between hunts. He can't wait for the holidays, when there will be many more such nights.</p><p>Surrounded by family.</p><p>So what if things aren't perfect. They never were in the first place.</p><p>He has his brother back. He has his Uncle, and a dog who's always happy to see him when they stop by. He has Cas, and Castiel's family too. Human and Angel – though Sam admits he's still wary of Gabriel at times. Balthazar likes him well enough, at least.</p><p>So what if things aren't perfect. They're perfect enough for Sam.</p>
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